


Fred & George Weasley One Shots

by revengingbarnes



Series: Fred & George Weasley one shots [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Imagines, Implied Sexual Content, Sexual Content, one shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 15:28:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 23,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16977180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revengingbarnes/pseuds/revengingbarnes
Summary: A collection of Fred & George Weasley one shots originally written for my Tumblr.





	1. Chapter 1

All these one shots were originally posted on @gobletofweasley (now inactive) on Tumblr.


	2. Taking A Risk (f.w)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some time away from Fred makes the reader realize how much she loves him. Finally, she decides to take a leap of faith.

You groaned again, looking up. “How much longer before George gets here?”

Fred’s messy ginger hair appeared over the bottom of the bed. “The answer’s the same since the last time you asked: I don’t know.”

Your lips pursed into a pout. “I just really want to show you everything I’ve designed so far.”

Fred sighed and got up. Striding to where you sat perched cross legged on his bed, he reached a hand out. “Lets see it, then.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “We’re not going to wait for him?”

Fred snorted. “He has detention with Filch. For all we know, he’s gonna be down there all night.” He tugged your sketchbook from your hands and, sitting comfortably to face you, opened it.

Three months ago Fred and George had told you about their plans of opening a joke shop. They knew of your drawing skills, of course, and had asked you to help with their product designs. You had immediately agreed.

“Design a Joke Shop? And yours, no less? I’d be  _honored_! Oh, you guys!” You had jumped at them, pulling them both into hugs. They laughed and hugged you back.

“I can’t believe you want me to be the artist for your shop. Little old _me_.” You mumbled into Fred’s shirt as you hugged him. He gave you one last squeeze before pulling away.

“Of course we want you to! You’re the unofficial official artist of Gryffindor.” You blushed at Fred’s compliment, turning away so he wouldn’t see. You had been crushing on the older twin for a few months, though he didn’t have the faintest idea.

George was wiggling his eyebrows at you, and you tried to punch him as discretely as possible. He had figured out that you had a crush on Fred before  _you_  had figured it out. Of course, you told him you’d murder him if he breathed a word, and he sealed his lips shut. He still loved to drop hints, though. Leaving Fred confused and you flustered.

Now sitting here with Fred, you took the time to admire his features while he pored over your drawings. His ginger hair seemed brighter than ever. The sunlight entering through an adjacent window made his eyes appear a lighter shade of brown. His nose bridge was littered with prominent freckles that you found absolutely adorable. His lips were slightly parted, rosy red and so  _soft looking…_

Shaking your head, you lowered your stare to your lap, playing with the hem of your shirt and trying to take deep breaths to calm down your rapidly reddening cheeks. Silence prevailed the dorm room as Fred went from picture to picture, taking in the details with a look of concentration that you’d never seen before. Nevertheless, you were sure you had stayed true to Fred and George’s tastes and preferences while you drew. You knew they’d like it.

Fred pointed to a picture of him and George you had made to be put on some of their larger Skiving Snackboxes.

“That’s a terrifyingly accurate drawing of us,” He said, looking up at you.

You pulled your best poker face. “Ah, yes. It’s almost like I’m good at what I do.”

Fred pushed you as you giggled, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t be a smartass with me.” He had a grin on his face.

Ten minutes later, he closed the sketchbook and sighed.

“Y’know, you’re not as good as George and I assumed.” Your face fell, heartbeat quickening at his words. A moment later, a smile took over Fred’s face.

“You’re better.” He whispered dramatically before bursting into laughter at your expression.

“Fred!” You whined. “I nearly had a stroke.”

Fred laughed some more, poking your sides until your pout faded and you laughed along. A few minutes later, he calmed down and looked at you. “In all seriousness, Y/N, these are way better than what we imagined. They’re exactly what we wanted. You’ve outdone yourself.”

Blushing furiously, you waved your hand as if to say  _no big deal_. Your heart was fluttering at Fred’s words. Everything coming out of his mouth had more impact on you than you could imagine. Warmth overtook your body as you continued to stare at your lap, your words failing you.

Silence fell over both of you as Fred got up to continue packing his trunk. Him and George were to make their grand exit tomorrow. Again, you felt the sense of dread and hopelessness you always felt every time you thought of school without Fred. Your throat closed up as you stared at Fred’s back. He was messily shoving some last minute clothes into his trunk, humming a tune you didn’t recognize.

You felt a smile ghost over your lips as you stared at him. For the twentieth time, you considered telling Fred about how you felt, but hesitated. If he didn’t feel the same way, you could lose him forever. You’d rather live with an oblivious Fred than no Fred at all. So, taking a deep breath, you banished these thoughts from your head and returned to the present.

* * *

Everything about the dramatic Weasley farewell went about exactly as planned. You stood amongst the other students, a big grin etched on your face as they hollered and cheered for the twins, whose backs were already getting farther and farther from the school. As the Entrance Hall cleared out, you continued to stare, even though they were long gone. Already, an all too familiar feeling of sadness crept into you. Turning, you walked back into the Great Hall.

* * *

A yelp escaped your throat as a boy no more than four years old zoomed past your legs, his laughter loud enough to be heard through the noise in the shop. Letting out a shaky laugh, you turned back to the front, letting your eyes feast on your first sight of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Your first thought was,  _it’s perfect_.

The shop was crammed from floor to ceiling with products, it was crowded to the brim, people of different ages wanting to get their hands on the newest legendary product in Diagon Alley. As you stepped forward, you recognized your designs on almost every package. Your insides squeezed with giddiness at the sight. This was all the validation you needed.

Turning into a less crowded aisle, your eyes immediately fell upon a flash of red at the far end. Your breath caught when you realized it was Fred, heart constricting at the sight.

Your last couple of months at Hogwarts had been far from ideal. Fred and George were gone, and they took with them all the laughter and jokes that made you happy. And their departure had awakened in you a deep yearning. Not a day passed where you didn’t regret not telling Fred how you felt. Not seeing him everyday made you realize how much you wanted him in your life. And how exactly you wanted him.

Standing here now, watching Fred talk to one of his younger customers, you knew what you wanted to do. And you knew you finally had enough courage to do it.

It was that moment when Fred turned around, eyes meeting yours. The surprise on his face was fleeting, and was quickly replaced by a huge smile. You felt yourself smile back.

He was wearing a brightly coloured suit, but the brightest thing on him were still his eyes, a light chocolate brown that reminded you of home. Your heart gave another lurch as you walked over to him. Before you could stop and second guess, you stood on your tiptoes, placing your lips softly onto his.

His body tensed up almost immediately, and you immediately pulled away from the feather light kiss. All your insecurities came rushing back as you looked at him. He had a strange expression on his face. It wasn’t anger, or surprise… or happiness. It was something you couldn’t place, and that filled you with dread.

Before you could open your mouth to explain, or step back, you felt a hand on your waist, pulling you forward. Then, without a moment’s pause, Fred’s lips slammed into yours.

You didn’t think about it at all. Your hands automatically found his hair as his gripped your waist. Pulling you closer so your bodies were pressed together, Fred kissed you hungrily, and in that moment, you knew he felt the same as you had all these years.

You gripped him tighter, your heart nearly bursting out of your chest but you didn’t stop kissing him. He nibbled on your bottom lip and you moaned against his lips, causing his hold on you to tighten.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, you pulled away from each other and you rested your forehead against his. You didn’t open your eyes, afraid it would be a dream. After a full minute, Fred huffed out a laugh and nudged your nose with his. Your eyes finally fluttered open and a sheepish grin took over your face. Fred’s cheeks were flushed and his grin was huge. He pulled away but grabbed your hand, leading you to the exit.

“Let’s talk about this over drinks at the Leaky Cauldron, yeah?”


	3. Battle Scars (f.w)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly isn't fond of the reader. Fred comforts her.

“Do you need any help with cleaning up, Mrs Weasley?” You asked the woman bustling around the kitchen. She didn’t reply, even though you knew she had heard you perfectly. Fred’s mum had a tendency of ignoring you. You huffed and repeated your question, this time louder. **  
**

She seemed to realize you weren’t going to leave, and turned to you. “Oh no. No need to help. I’m fine here. Why don’t you go outside?” Before you could reply, she had turned her back again.

You silently made your way out of the house and to the backyard of Aunt Muriel’s home. Sitting down on the grass, you let out a sigh.

Molly Weasley wasn’t particularly fond of you. Why? You had no idea. But Fred refused to tell you, instead, he always comforted you when Molly’s behaviour upset you. She was never outright nasty towards you, she was too kind for that. But she was dismissive enough that it hurt. You loved Fred and his mother’s opinion meant a lot to you.

“If you stare at that bush any harder, you’re going to set it on fire.” Fred’s voice broke you from your thoughts and you looked to your side to see him seating himself next to you. He looked almost serene under the sunlight, red hair like fire and eyes a contrasting calm brown. When you didn’t laugh, his smile dropped.

“Mum again, isn’t it?” Again, you didn’t say anything. He sighed before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his lap.

“Your mum hates me,” you mumbled against his shoulder, feeling your lips turn into a pout. Fred huffed out a laugh.

“She doesn’t  _hate_  you. She just isn’t used to us dating yet.”

You lifted your head to give him a look. “We’ve been dating for two years.”

He nodded. “Yes, but she only met you a month ago, didn’t she?” You reluctantly nodded. “And so what if she doesn’t like you? She didn’t like Fleur either. Bill still married her.”

You let out a sigh. “I just want your family to like me.”

Fred’s chest rumbled with laughter. “My family  _loves_  you. My brothers think you’re the funniest person ever and Ginny worships you. It’s just mum, she’ll come around.”

You remained silent but snuggled further into Fred’s warmth, closing your eyes and trying to relax your body.

* * *

The call for a battle against Death Eaters at Hogwarts was unexpected, yet all of you were prepared. When you got there, the battle had already begun, blasts and explosions everywhere. You stayed close to Fred and Percy as you made your way through the castle, stunning whoever tried to stop you. Just when you thought things were going well, they took a turn for the worst.

Everything happened in the span of a few seconds, but to you it felt like slow motion. Fred was making a joke, smile on his face. It was as if you saw what was coming. Before you could think twice, your feet had carried you over to Fred, just as the explosion happened.

Your body collided with his full force, pushing him off his feet and he landed a good distance away from you. Your ears were ringing from the explosion. As if in a trance, you turned around, just in time for the rubble to fall on you.

The pain was acute and intense. But just as quickly as it came, it was gone as your world went black.

* * *

Pain.

You didn’t have to open your eyes to feel it. It was all over you. You couldn’t move your legs, they felt like lead. Your arms itched and burned. Involuntarily, you let out a groan.

There was a scraping of chairs and finally, with much effort, you opened your eyes.

The first thing you saw were a pair of anxious brown orbs close to your face. You recognized him immediately. It was Fred.

It all came back then. The battle. The explosion. The stones falling on you. And your immediate next thought was,  _Fred is okay._

He looked terrible though. His pace was pale, his eyes were sunken and lined with dark circles. But as he looked at you, he let out a relieved laugh. “Oh thank  _Merlin_ , Y/N. You’re okay, you’re awake.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you finally took a look at your surroundings. You were laid out on a bed, a thin white sheet covering you. The floors and ceiling were white as well. There was a strange beeping noise, but you couldn’t place where it was coming from.

“Saint Mungo’s?” You asked. Your voice was hoarse.

Fred shook his head. “No. It’s a muggle hospital. Saint Mungo’s was too crowded after the battle.”

Realization dawned on you as you tried to sit up. “The battle! Voldemort! What happened?” A sharp pain shot through your stomach and you groaned.

Fred was there immediately, holding you gently and sitting you up against the headboard. “Calm down, you’re not well, darling. You need to rest. I’ll tell you everything.”

It took Fred half an hour to go through everything that had happened. You felt tears of relief spring into your eyes when you found out that it was all over, finally.

“It was a right struggle trying to get you out from under that concrete,” he said. “You were unconscious, but still breathing. They took you to Saint Mungo’s first. Then transferred you here when you were out of the critical stage. You’ve been out for a week.”

You nodded slowly, processing everything. As you did, your eyes fell on your arms and you gasped.

It was littered with bruises and scars of different shapes and sizes. Small and big scratches and burn marks were imprinted on your skin, as you looked at it.

“Fred, do you have a mirror?” Fred didn’t seem to register your quiet tone, as he just rummaged through a bag and pulled a small mirror out. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked at yourself.

You knew well enough that the bruises would fade, but it wasn’t them you were worried about. A massive scar ran down from your forehead, along your nose bridge, through your cheek all the way to your chin. Another, smaller scar lay horizontally across your opposite cheekbone. You felt your face contort at the sight, tears in your eyes.

“Y/N? Hey, whoa what’s wrong? Does it hurt?” Fred moved closer to you in alarm. You shook your head.

“My face, Fred,” you whimpered. “It’s hideous.”

Fred’s eyebrows furrowed. “What are you talking about?” Realization dawned on his face when he guessed what you meant. “Hey, no. Don’t think that. Sweetheart, you’re beautiful. So what if you have these scars? They show your story. What you did to save me. They show how much you care. I’m so proud of you. And when our children ask me how their mother got her scars, I’ll recount the story with a smile on my face.”

Your breath hitched as you stared at Fred. “Our ch-children?”

Fred nodded. Smiling softly, he slid off the edge of the bed to the floor, and got down on one knee. You let out a strangled gasp.

“I know we’re young, and I know I don’t have a ring right now, but I love you so much Y/N. This last week was hell. I didn’t know if I’d ever see your eyes again. But it made me realize how much I wanted you in my life. Please, marry me. Live with me forever. Have my children. Grow old with me.”

By now your body was racking with sobs. The pain in your body didn’t register anymore. Only the overwhelming happiness you felt as you looked at Fred and nodded your head vigorously. Your voice was too clogged up to speak, and Fred seemed to understand that as he stood back up, a blinding smile on his face. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours.

You kissed him back with as much passion and yearning you could show. Everything you wanted to say, you poured into that one kiss, holding onto the front of Fred’s shirt and he cradled your head, running his fingers through your hair.

The clearing of a throat broke your kiss and you both looked towards the door. Molly Weasley stood in the doorway, a soft smile playing on her face. Before you could even open your mouth, she had bustled over to you, and pulled you into a hug.

“Thank you,” she whispered in your ear, grip on you tightening. You immediately knew what she meant.  _Thank you for saving my son’s life. Thank you for keeping my family together. Thank you for making him happy. I’m sorry._

You felt wetness on your shoulder as you hugged Molly back, rubbing her arm up and down. Bliss was overtaking your body. You sank into her embrace, happier than you’d felt in a very long time.


	4. Annoying (f.w)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a squeaky chair in the library. Fred loves sitting in it just so he can annoy you.

You did not like Fred Weasley.

You hadn’t really formed an opinion of him until your fifth year, when a prank that he and his brother pulled went disastrously wrong and you were caught in the crossfire. It was quite the fiasco, ending with you standing in the middle, covered head to toe in sugar and…. _is that honey?_

George had apologized and offered to help clean up, but you refused. You wouldn’t have let it bother you if Fred hadn’t been laughing his ass off in the background. You had decided then that you did not like Fred Weasley.

He had approached you on six different occasions in the following days, to say sorry for the whole thing. You ignored him, though. It was humiliating enough to be in the middle of it, let alone have him laugh as well. You were determined to not speak to him at all.

Fred stopped apologizing after a while, but by no means did he leave you alone. He started trying to get your attention by any way possible. He’d sit next to you in classes, spent a lot of time staring at you, perhaps hoping you’d get uncomfortable and finally snap at him. He respected your privacy, his attempts were on the right side of playful. But nope, he was not getting what he wanted.

Of course, you didn’t enjoy the attention. That was absurd. Feeling a little flattered was normal. Yup, perfectly normal. You did not like Fred Weasley. He can fuck off.

So what if he has bright eyes that make your heart flutter and a cheeky smile that makes your knees weak? He’s _Fred Weasley_. And you did not like Fred Weasley.

“You totally like Fred Weasley.” Angelina was giving you a look. “You’re just in denial.”

“No, I don’t.” You replied. “And I’m not in denial.”

“You’re in denial of  _being_  in denial.”

“I’m not-” You took a deep breath. “Say whatever you want, I don’t like Fred Weasley.”

It shocked you how long Fred continued his advances, and how outrageous they got as time went on. From setting off fireworks in the Great Hall to spell your name (you had to hide a smile at that), to reading Muggle books just so he could quote references when you were around, Fred Weasley was doing the one thing Fred Weasley knew how to do; go big or go home.

It went on for  _two whole years_. And never once did Fred slow down. George seemed to enjoy helping him, so you knew it wouldn’t stop anytime soon either.

Also, you blamed him for how hard it was getting to ignore him. You blamed his laugh for your racing heart and flushed cheeks. You blamed his piercing gaze for making you squirm in your seat.

Of course, you did not like Fred Weasley. Nope. This was all his fault.

Things took a turn for the worst in seventh year.

Fred had sat with you in the library before. He’d often make jokes and puns to get a reaction out of you, but mostly, he just silently watched you, trying to unnerve you. It didn’t ever work, though. You had become good at ignoring his comments.

Until now.

As he sat down today, the chair below him squeaked. In that instant, you could practically  _feel_  the idea forming in his head, you didn’t have to look at him. But it was safe to say it was the worst time you had ever had at a library.

Fred deliberately fidgeted in the seat, making it squeak horribly. You gritted your teeth to hide your annoyance. It didn’t work. The chair continued to make a high-pitched squeaking sound, seeming louder in the silence of the library. You clenched your fists, trying to concentrate on your Charms book. He was  _not_  winning this. You wouldn’t let him.

Fred continued subtly moving, making the chair squeak and groan with each movement. Your patience was wearing thin, so you abruptly stood up, gathered your things and stormed out of the library. You had kept up this game for too long. And if you stayed in there longer, you would have to break your silence with Fred.

You did not like Fred Weasley, and he wasn’t doing anything to help his case.

Over the next few weeks, the squeaking chair had become an annoyingly important part of your day. Fred would deliberately sit in that chair, and it was no use when you switched tables. The library was always dead silent, you could hear the chair on the other side of the room.

It was unbearable. You had spent so much time listening to the squeaking chair that your ears would still be ringing with its annoying sound even when you were elsewhere. You wanted to rip Fred’s head off.  _That little shit_. With his stupid eyes, and his stupid outrageously red hair, and _his fucking stupid hands that you wanted all over your body._  You wanted to cut his hands off.

It was a cold December evening when you finally broke. Fred was sitting opposite to you, as usual. The chair was squeaking terribly, making you clench your jaw. Last night, you had dreamed of the chair as well. This was getting way out of hand.

You looked up at Fred, putting all your hate in that one glare.

“Cut it out.”

Fred looked like he was putting a lot of effort into not celebrating his victory right there and then. “Why should I?”

“Squeak that chair one more time, and I will  _murder_  you while you sleep tonight.”

Fred moved, making the chair squeak. You let out a cry of frustration before standing up, and starting to gather your things.

Fred moved to stand next to you, grabbing your arm and turning you to him, face inches from yours.

“Two years, sweetheart. Two years I waited to hear you speak to me. You’re not leaving.”

Your breath hitched at his proximity, making him smirk. You pulled a defiant look on your face.

“Yeah? Who’s gonna stop me? You?”

Fred licked his lips and your eyes were instantly drawn to them. They were rosy red.  _They look so soft, I wonder how they’ll feel…._

You let out another strangled sound, grabbing the collar of Fred’s shirt and pulling him down for a kiss.

He responded instantly, grabbing you from behind your thighs and lifting you onto the table. He took his place between your legs, kissing you hungrily. It was sloppy and hot. Tongues and teeth clashing. You pulled at his hair and he groaned against your mouth. One of his hands slid under your skirt to massage the bare skin of your thighs, making you whimper. His body moved fluidly against yours, biting your lips, pulling at your shirt. It felt heavenly.

You pulled away after a while, breathing heavily. Fred’s eyes were blown, lips swollen and hair messy. You were sure you looked more or less the same. But you didn’t mind.

Fred kissed you again, slower this time, softer and more sensual. Light pecks and slow caresses. You sighed against his lips, not bothering to suppress your smile.

You did not like Fred Weasley.

You were in love with him.


	5. Nightmares (f.w)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader has recurring nightmares of Fred dying. He’s always there to comfort her.

There were blasts and explosions everywhere. Dust and smoke suspended in the air made it hard to breathe. The dirty surroundings stung your eyes and you had to blink back tears as you looked around desperately, trying to locate red hair.

You saw it soon after. While running around the castle halls, you spotted Fred, fighting an intense battle against a death eater. You had just opened your mouth to call to him, when it happened.

A flash of green light. Shooting through the air, straight to Fred’s side. He was too slow. You saw it happen as if in slow motion. The light hit Fred, lighting him up for just a second before disappearing. He collapsed on the spot, eyes rolling up into his head. You saw it as if you were right next to him. You saw his face harden and his eyes close partially. You heard the gleeful laugh of the Death Eater responsible. And you heard yourself scream.

* * *

You woke with a start, breaths coming in great gulping gasps, eyes wide and hands shaking. It took you a while to register the ceiling of the room, a dull brown shade. Wood. You remembered then that you were at the Burrow.

You sighed. It was a dream. All a dream. Fred didn’t die. He was sleeping soundly in the room right opposite to yours, completely safe.

Your hands were still clammy. You got off the bed and silently made your way towards the door, not wanting to awaken Hermione and Ginny. All logic told you that Fred was perfectly fine. But you wouldn’t rest until you’d looked at him. Touched him. Made sure he was alright with your own eyes.

You slid under the warm blankets of Fred’s bed soon after. Molly would have a fit tomorrow if she saw you were in the same bed, but you didn’t care. You needed him, needed to feel his arms around you, needed to feel his chest rise and fall under your hand.

Fred shifted when you snuggled closer to him. His body heat radiating off him in waves. He stopped snoring, stirred and his eyes fluttered open.

“Y/N? Sweetheart, you okay?”

You put your arms around him, your head tucked under his chin. “Fine. Had a nightmare. You died.”

It seemed like a rehearsed line by now. Fred pulled back to look at you, eyes half open, brows furrowed.

“That’s the third time this week. Are you sure you’re alright?”

You placed a hand on Fred’s chest, sighing and closing your eyes when you felt his steady heartbeat. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between you two. You smiled.

“I’ve never been better.”

* * *

You struggled to breathe through the cloth tied around your mouth, effectively gagging you. Ropes held your wrists behind your back. Tears streamed down your face, eyes screwed shut as you heard another scream of agony from no more than a few feet away from you. You couldn’t look. You couldn’t watch as Bellatrix cut through Fred over and over. You couldn’t watch the blood stream down his skin. You wished you could cover your ears. You couldn’t bear the screams.

Then you felt an invisible force pull open your eyes and turn your head so you looked directly at him. You saw Bellatrix with her wand pointed at you.

“There,” she said. “You can’t miss the grand finale, love.”

You saw Fred, tied to a chair with his head hanging low. His shirt and arms were mangled beyond recognition, he was covered in blood.

Bellatrix brought her other hand down, the knife gripped in it sinking deep, deep into Fred’s chest, making a disgusting sound. You screamed through your gag, unable to look away. Fred’s mouth opened, and it stayed that way.

He did not move.

* * *

Breaths came painfully as you sat in your bed, trying to suppress your whimpers as you cried. You didn’t even think about it anymore, your legs carried you out of your bed and into Fred’s in no time. He woke up to your trembling body clinging to his. You heard him sigh before he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close and flipping so his head rested on your chest. His weight on you felt reassuring, and you felt your heart calm down. Within minutes, you were asleep again.

* * *

How many times had it happened? How many different ways had you watched Fred die? Explosion, stabbing, killing curse, venomous snake bite….the list goes on.

Every night, Fred would die in your dreams. Every night, a part of you died with him. Every night, that part was brought back to life when you sank into Fred’s warmth, when he whispered reassuring words in your ear. It was exhausting, to say the very least. You felt yourself slipping away. Fred was worried about you. So were George and Molly. They understood your fears of course. This sort of thing happened when you lived amidst a war. They couldn’t blame you.

Fred however, did feel terrible about it. So much so that he begged his mum to let you sleep together, just so you could have a full night’s rest. She was reluctant at first, but one look at your haunted, sunken eyes, and she agreed. You deserved rest. You were taking this very hard.

The nightmares were considerably less goreish then. You still had them, but you wouldn’t feel the impact as intensely as before, because your eyes would open to Fred’s peaceful face right next to yours. You’d sigh, an all too familiar relief washing over you, and you’d sink into unconsciousness again.

You didn’t know how long it continued. The nightmares, the late night cuddles. The aftershocks of each death, it seemed like an eternity. Your exhaustion was making you lose all sense of time. If this went on, you were going to go mad.

* * *

It was a poisonous potion this time. It was in Fred’s butterbear. And you had to watch as he choked on it, gasping and coughing. Blood dribbled from his mouth, eyes clenched shut as it dripped downward and painted his chin. He tried to breathe, choked on the blood again. You were screaming, shaking Fred and bending him over, hoping somehow, he would be able to breathe. It didn’t work. You cried as you shouted for help, as no one came, as you watched Fred choke to death.

* * *

You woke up with a start. You thought about your nightmare, and then clenching your eyes shut to hold back tears, you started breathing in and out, trying to calm yourself. That’s when you noticed it.

Something was different.

For one, it wasn’t nighttime. Sunlight was streaming in from the window. For another, you lay in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room. Fred was nowhere to be seen.

You slowly lifted yourself up, walking over to the window and peering outside. Was this…. Diagon Alley?

Yes, it was. You were on a first floor apartment in Diagon Alley. Now filled with confusion and shock, you left the room, only to enter another, slightly smaller living room.

George sat in one of the armchairs, staring into space. Your head was bursting with questions. You slowly moved forward.

“George?” You whispered. He seemed to snap out of his trance, blinking and looking at you.

“Y/N! You’re awake.”

You nodded your head slowly. “Yeah. Where’s Fred? How come he isn’t in bed? Where  _are_ we?”

George’s eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t reply, just continued to stare at you. You shifted, then started speaking again.

“I had another nightmare. Why wasn’t he there? How come he got up before me?”

George slowly stood up, still staring at you, albeit this time, his eyes were softer. You couldn’t place his expression. Was it pity? Maybe.

“He’s always there,” you rambled on, feeling slightly nervous now, you didn’t know why. “See, I’ve been having nightmares for weeks. He’d die in all of them. But it wasn’t real. He’d be there when I woke up, ready to cuddle me and comfort me.” You felt like a child explaining yourself. Then, you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Why am I telling you this? You were there. You know what I’ve been going through.”

George had now moved to stand next to you. Gently taking your forearms, he sat you down on the couch with him. He stroked your hair, a strange, pained look on his face. He placed one hand on your cheek, the other on your shoulder.

Your voice shook as you talked.

“George? What’s going on? Where’s Fred? I need to see him. I’m getting worried.”

That was when George spoke, slowly, clearly, as if he thought you wouldn’t understand.

“Y/N, darling, there were no nightmares. There was no cuddling and no comforting. You never had any nightmares about Fred dying. Sweetheart, Fred’s been dead for over four months.”


	6. Not-So-Friendly Things (f.w)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re just friends.”

Fred traced his hand down her side, feeling the dip of her waist and the curve of her hips. He heard her sigh under his touch, smirking when he saw goosebumps rise on her skin. He moved to wrap his arm around her to pull her back closer to his chest. But before he could, she lifted herself up into sitting position, reaching for her shirt on the floor.

Fred felt his heart drop as she tugged the shirt onto herself. He shouldn’t feel this way. Of course this was going to happen. She never stayed. But that didn’t reduce the aching in his heart.

“You won’t stay the night?” He heard the plead in his voice, surfacing from underneath the tiredness. She laughed without turning around. As much as it hurt, Fred’s heart fluttered at the sound.

“When have I ever stayed, Fred? We’ve talked about this. This wasn’t part of the arrangement.”

“Right.” Fred felt his mouth turn down. “The  _arrangement.”_

The friends with benefits arrangement they had made three months ago after a drunken night together. It had worked out just fine up until a month ago. Suddenly, all Fred could think about was Y/N’s smile, and her voice. Her heart stopping laugh and her breathtaking eyes. Suddenly, Y/N was much more than a fuck buddy.

Fred had gone and broken the first rule of the friends with benefits relationship. He had fallen in love with her. She was all he could think about. When she was with him, were moments spent in utter bliss. He’d allow her to take him apart completely, he gave himself to her in those few hours. And then she was gone, leaving him to slowly pick up the scattered, broken pieces of himself.

More shuffling broke Fred out of his depressing train of thought. Y/N was struggling to put on her trousers. Heart lurching, Fred sat up to tug on her arm. She finally looked back at him, making him stop, but only briefly.

“Stay, please.” He said. He had never asked her to stay. He knew the rules. But he couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t take the fact that she was gone before he could blink, before he could hold her and tell her how badly he had fallen. He  _wanted_  her.

Y/N’s face hardened. “Fred, no. We talked about this.  **We’re just friends**.”

“ **You said my name in your sleep**.” Fred countered. “That one night you fell asleep in the common room. You said my name. That’s totally platonic, I see.” He couldn’t help the sarcasm.

Y/N’s face visibly paled before setting into stone again. But that brief second was enough.  _I knew it._

“We talked about this.” She repeated through gritted teeth.

Fred scoffed. “Is that the only thing you have to say? Looks like you have no reason to deny your feelings for me.”

“I don’t have feelings for you!” She burst out, loud enough to shut him up. Turning, she shoved her feet into her shoes and stood up. “This is ridiculous. We. Are. Friends. That’s it. I don’t have feelings for you. And it’ll do you good to stop picking up this topic everytime we’re together.”

“Then why do you keep doing this?” It was Fred’s turn to raise his voice. “Why do you keep coming back? Just friends, my ass. We were doing some very _not so friendly_ things just a few minutes ago.”

She looked at him, shock on her face. Gritting her teeth, she turned to stomp out of the empty dormitory. Fred felt his own anger rise.

“Don’t come back.” He spoke up, making her stop with her hand on the door handle. “If you walk out that door right now, don’t come back. This, whatever this is, it’s over.”

The silence stretched between them, almost deafening in itself. In one swift motion, Y/N pulled open the door and stepped out, slamming it shut behind her.

His heart was practically beating out of his chest, breaths coming heavily. Tears blurred his eyes but he blinked them away quickly. Huffing, he fell back onto the bed, the sheets already cold under him.

* * *

Two weeks.

He hadn’t talked to Y/N in two weeks. He hadn’t touched her in two weeks. He hadn’t heard her voice in two weeks.

It was the worst two weeks of his life. His fingers yearned to touch her skin and his eyes craved looking into hers as they filled with pleasure. He wanted to kiss her again, feel her tongue caress against his. He wanted to hear her moans, wanted to feel the same feelings as their sighs mixed together. It almost made him crack. Almost.

But then he’d see her, in the Great Hall with her friends or in class scribbling something on the parchment. And she was perfectly fine. That made him stop. He was wrong. She didn’t care. To her, it really was just meaningless sex.

So of course, it came as a surprise when on Friday, exactly 16 nights since they’d been together, Y/N stood at his dorm room door, eyes wide and pleading, desperate. He had hardly opened his mouth when hers stopped him from speaking. Their kisses were hungry, sloppy and hot. Both too starved to talk. Both too thirsty to feel their bodies moving together to say a single word.

It was the best night they’d ever had together. It was steamy and intimate, her moans like music to his ears and his lips like the elixir of life for her. It was everything Fred had wanted for two long, deprived weeks. And it was better than he could ever have imagined it.

Afterward, Fred stared at her as she traced circles on his bare chest, legs tangled together and arms around each other. He didn’t know what this meant. He wanted to believe she came back because she cared, but he didn’t know. She was so unpredictable. It was one of the things about her that initially intrigued him.

“Are you going to leave again?” He turned his head to the ceiling, not wanting to look at her as she rejected him again. He felt her sigh.

“No. I’m not.”

He lifted his head up to look down at her, eyes wide.

“You’re not?”

She smiled slightly, looking at him. “You were right. We can’t be friends if we do such not so friendly things. So I’ve decided that we are not going to be friends anymore.”

Fred’s breath hitched at the implication. “And what will we be now?”

She looked away then, the first tendrils of insecurity curling in her irises.

“I’ll be whatever you want us to be. If you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

Fred leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. “I want you to be mine. Be completely and wholly mine. I want to hold you and kiss you whenever I want to. I want to be able to know that you’ll be here with me every step of the way, wherever I choose to go.”

Y/N smiled then, big and bright.

“There’s a word for that, you know. Girlfriend. I’m sure your little brain was feeling too stressed trying to remember it-” she squealed as Fred pinched her, before he straddled her thighs and dug his hands into her waist.

Laughs erupted loudly from her mouth, trying to push his hands away. Fred didn’t relent, though, only stopping when her face was red and she was struggling to breathe.

“I hate you.” She managed to say, trying to catch her breath.

“Yeah. I know. I hate you, too.  **Can I kiss you**  now?”

He didn’t wait for her reply before pressing his lips to hers, kissing her until their smiles were too wide for them to continue.


	7. So Cold (f.w)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader finds out why no one goes out in the snow with Fred.

Fred was sitting next to the Gryffindor common room window, watching as the snow fell outside on a cold, December morning. That wasn’t a strange sight. What intrigued you was his scowl and his pout, and his folded arms.

You walked to where he sat, climbing on the wide window sill and seating yourself across from him, raising an eyebrow when he looked at you.

“No one wants to go out in the snow with me,” he said almost childishly, looking around to glare at his twin and the rest of the sixth year students sitting next to the fire. Angelina flipped him off.

You weren’t close with Fred. You knew him well enough, you were partnered up with him various times, you could say that he was a friend. But it wasn’t too close. You were a nice person however, and decided you couldn’t take the dejected look on Fred’s face any longer.

“I can go out in the snow with you,” you offered. You didn’t mind, you liked walking in the snow. It was stress relieving and it made you happy. Winters were honestly your favourite time of the year.

You started to like winter a little bit more when Fred’s face lit up at your words. You had always had a crush on Fred, it was one of the reasons you didn’t talk to him all that much. You were too afraid to embarrass yourself. But here you were, too compassionate to deny Fred when he was pouting like…. like  _that._

Fred ushered you off to change into warmer outdoor clothes. You agreed to meet him right outside the common room door. As you descended the dorm stairs on your way outside, George was grinning at you.

“Good luck,” he snickered. “You’ll need it.”

You raised an eyebrow, confused, but didn’t bother asking him what he meant. You climbed out of the portrait hole to join Fred outside.

He gave you a huge smile that you couldn’t help but return. He then grabbed your gloved hand in his, and led you outside. You blushed slightly at his grip.

It’s just the cold that’s making you blush. It’s not Fred. You told yourself, then sighed. _Who am I kidding? It’s Fred._

Fred jumped straight into the eight inch deep snow as soon as you stepped outside, kicking at it. You laughed at his enthusiasm as he took snow in his hands, throwing it into the air. You followed him out, feeling the familiar sense of comfort surrounded by white. You walked further on, looking at the dead white grounds. You saw the whomping willow shaking the snow from its branches in the distance.

Something very, very cold slid down your back, making you shriek and turn around. Fred stood there with a shit eating grin on his face and snow in his hands.

“SNOW WAR!” He screamed, running backwards while pelting you with large amounts of snow. You screamed and shielded yourself with your arms, running to hide behind the corner of the castle.

Your whole body trembled as you still felt the cold on your back. You gritted your teeth to stop them chattering, suddenly realizing what George meant by  _good luck._  No wonder everyone refused to go with him.

A smile made its way onto your face at Fred’s distant laughter, and you realized you didn’t mind at all.

* * *

It was only many hours later that you and Fred finally collapsed in front of the fire in the common room, in dry clothes and wheezing with laughter.

You wiped the last tears from your eyes as you finally calmed down and took a breath. You shivered slightly, still feeling the cold from outside. A warm pair of arms wrapped a around you then, pulling you closer to an even warmer chest. You stiffened, turning to look at Fred.

“What are you doing?”

Fred smiled at you, softer as compared to his previous grins, making your heart skip and face heat up.

Fred continued to smile, grip tightening on you and pulling you into his arms, your back to his chest.

“I’m going to assume that your blush is because of how dashingly handsome I am and not because of the cold?”

You let out a shaky laugh and felt yourself relaxing, Fred was so warm, your body seemed to be automatically pulled to him.

He leaned his head against yours, hands intertwining with your own. You were hyper aware of how intimate you two were being, but it felt too natural to stop.

“Your hands are so cold,” he whispered, ear tickling yours, making you shiver. You felt his heart against your back, beating steadily, making you relax further into his embrace. Being here with Fred, him having initiated all your physical contact, it gave you enough confidence to do what you did next.

You turned your head to him, lips ghosting against his. He sighed into your mouth, sending shivers down your spine, this time, definitely not from the cold.

The kiss deepened further, tongues peeking out tentatively to brush against each other. Quiet signs and soft pecks. It made your body heat up and your shivers diminish until your body was completely lax against his.

You broke apart a few minutes later, eyes still closed and breaths heavy. He nuzzled his head against your warm neck, making you shriek slightly.

“Fred,” you whined. “Your nose is cold!”

Fred laughed slightly, and nuzzled into your neck farther, making you squirm and giggle.

Winters had always been your favourite time of the year. And your opinion still stood firm.


	8. The Things You Do For Love (f.w)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader must do whatever she can to keep her loved ones alive… even if it means betraying them.

The glazed look in your eyes was nothing new. Your classmates had seen you with it all year. They just thought it was because of the war, and because of your mother’s death. That even though she was a Death Eater, she was your mother, so it must hurt.

It was so much more than that.

They only saw the blank stare. They didn’t see the pain, the worry and the guilt that came with it. They only saw your mother’s death, they didn’t see the aftermath of it. They basically knew nothing.

Only you knew what you had to do. That you were burdened with mending your mother’s mistakes. Voldemort’s message was clear. Your mother died in the battle at the Department of Mysteries, and you were to redeem, by helping Malfoy with his mission to end Dumbledore. The stakes were too high to refuse. If you were to fail your mission, people would die. People you loved. Top of the hitlist being Fred Weasley.

Your boyfriend, Fred Weasley. The love of your life, Fred Weasley.

But it wasn’t just him, it was the whole family. The Weasleys had taken you in as their own a long time ago, you couldn’t lose them, nor have others go through losing them. They didn’t deserve that. They were good people.

Of course, you tried to resist, you tried to squirm your way out of it. But he was too clever, too precise in his threats. Of course you couldn’t deceive him, they didn’t call him the Dark Lord for no reason.

Footsteps crunching on the grass jogged you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see a certain blonde haired boy you had the displeasure of coming in contact with over the last year. Your stare hardened. You didn’t move. He stopped a few paces away from you. You could see the bags under his eyes, the pale skin and the gradually thinning face. If you weren’t so upset about your own actions, you would have felt sorry for him.

But you didn’t. All you could think about was the mental image of a poisoned Ron. You had almost killed him. Had it not been for Harry’s quick thinking, Ron wouldn’t be alive right now.

Just the thought of it brought tears to your eyes, and you could see Draco becoming uncomfortable.

“You know what?” He finally spoke up. “I'll…. go look at that cupboard myself. You need rest. I won’t tell anyone.”

You stared at him for a bit, heart lurching, before your limbs finally moved. You stood up and shuffled awkwardly, not knowing what to say. He shook his head, and you nodded, throat choked up. He understood your pain, he was trying to help.

You sent him a softer stare. Then, shooting him one last grateful look, you turned around to walk back to the Gryffindor tower.

The common room was empty, making you sigh in relief. You were in absolutely no mood to talk to people, you just wanted to go to sleep. Or maybe find Fred. Ever since you were given your ultimatum, you were extra clingy towards Fred. But it didn’t matter. You wanted to make sure he was okay at all times.

You slowly dragged your feet up the steps to the girls’ dormitories, wondering where Fred was and what he was doing. Was your fuck up with Ron going to entail any consequences for your boyfriend? You couldn’t be sure. You decided you’d go see him as soon as you got out of your uniform.

Yawning, you opened the door to your dormitory. You expected it to be empty, but there was one person standing next to your bed. His ginger head was bent low over something, his back to you.

You smiled and moved closer, glad you didn’t have to go find Fred through the huge corridors of Hogwarts. But as you reached a few feet away from him, your feet froze.

The air stilled as your body went rigid, feeling like someone had just poured a bucket of ice cold water over you. Your eyes settled on the parchment in Fred’s hand. The words were familiar, yet so unwelcome.

It was the letter in which Draco had instructed you to order an imperiused Madam Rosmerta to poison mead. The same mead which Ron drank and nearly died. You had received it about a week ago. Since you and Draco couldn’t communicate openly, you had resorted to writing letters with curt instructions. No matter how much you had told him to, the idiot always forgot to use code language.

And now you were watching the consequences of it unfold.

Your breath sped up when Fred finally turned around, eyes resting on you. You stifled a whimper when you saw the tears welled up in Fred’s eyes, not yet falling. Your chest was already bursting to explain yourself, but your words died on the tip of your tongue when Fred looked at you.

You would have preferred anything over the look on Fred’s face right now. You would have preferred torture at the hands of Bellatrix over the hurt spreading through Fred’s features, mixed with disbelief and utter betrayal.

You felt like you had sinned.

“Fred…” Your throat felt like it was in knots. It was becoming impossible to speak. “I can…explain-”

“Explain what?” Anger seemed to erupt from Fred suddenly, taking over his entire body. The hand holding the letter was clenched, scrunching the paper. He was breathing heavily.

“You… you tried to kill him.”

“No!” Your voice was desperate. “I didn’t! I would never-”

Your breath hitched, nearly causing you to choke. Tears were pouring from your eyes, as they were now doing so from Fred’s. Despite them, his face turned hard, stoic. His eyes glazed over and his mouth pursed into a thin line. It terrified you.

Fred moved to cross you, and you turned to watch him walk to the door. Eyebrows furrowed, you called out again.

“Fred, please.” You didn’t know what to say. “I can explain. Please.. **.please don’t leave me.”**

He didn’t turn around. “ **Give me one reason to not walk away right now.** ”

You swallowed your whimpers.  **“I’ve been in love with you since I was eleven**. Fred, I would never  _ever_ -”

“How long have you been lying to me?” His voice was hard, but you could feel the emotion right behind it, right under the cold surface.

You didn’t stop the sob now, feet carrying you over to him, grabbing his arm and turning him around. He immediately flinched back, making your tears flow faster.

“I loved you.” He didn’t look at you. You felt yourself shrink.

There was a small silence.

“I loved you. Loved, past tense.”

“I love you, present tense.” Your voice shook horribly and you reached out a hand, desperately searching his face for any trace of warmth. “Future tense, whatever bloody tense you want! Baby, _please_ …”

“So for what that love was worth,” Fred continued, cold and dogged. “Don’t make this more difficult for yourself.”

Your world seemed to shatter right there and then. You didn’t even have time to comprehend what Fred had said before he swiftly walked out. The door slammed behind him, echoing in the empty room, but to you, it was background noise. It didn’t register as you broke down, knees collapsing as you fell, hands pulling at your hair and body hurling with sobs.

 

...............................

 

“You can’t sit like this forever, y'know.”

Silence.

“Watch me.”

There was a sigh, then footsteps. A head of white blonde appeared in your field of vision. He propped himself on the window sill opposite from you. The only sound was the rushing wind as you both stared out into the vast gardens of the Malfoy Manor.

“I really don’t understand why you won’t leave.” His voice was a mere whisper. “It’s an all out war right now. Whether you help the Dark Lord or not, your boyfriend is still going to be in danger.”

You let out a bitter laugh, feeling an all too familiar stab in the chest.

“What boyfriend? I lost him the minute I signed up for this shitshow.”

“Then go get him back.”

The firmness in Draco’s voice made you look at him, finally. His eyes were hard and determined, mouth set into a thin line.

“Go get him back, Y/N. You love him, truly. You’ve done terrible things just to keep him safe. Go to him. Find him. And fight the war on the right side.”

You continued staring at him, still motionless. Draco rolled his eyes.

“Good Merlin, woman, do you  _not_  want him back?”

“He won’t take me back.” You whispered, feeling tears sting your eyes. “He didn’t even look at me when he…. when he-” Your throat felt like it was closing up.

Draco’s eyes softened and he stood up. Grabbing your arm, he pulled you to your feet, grabbing your wand and handing it to you before making his way downstairs with you.

You wanted to question what he was doing, but it was obvious. He was taking you through one of the Manor’s many secret passageways leading straight out. You didn’t protest, for some reason. Maybe you actually did want to see Fred. You hadn’t seen him in over a year. You knew he was safe up until now but you yearned to see him with your own eyes. Feel his skin under your fingertips.

Even if his eyes held nothing but hatred for you.

When you got to the door leading straight into the forest behind the Manor, Draco turned to you.

“He won’t take me back,” you repeated.

“Yes he will. I don’t like him much, but he’ll at least listen to you. He’s not a total dumbass.”

You smiled slightly, your first one in a long time. But it dropped instantly.

“I don’t even know where he is.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Who do you think I am?” He handed you a small piece of parchment with an address written on it in neat, loopy handwriting.

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “Where did you get this?”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.” Before you could protest, he turned you around to face the door, turning the knob and opening it. Light flooded into the dim hallway. “Get the hell out of here before anyone comes by.”

You stepped into the threshold, turning to look at Draco.

“I’ll come back for you.”

He smiled sadly, as if to say _no you won’t._

“Take care, Y/L/N.”

You smiled at him. “You too, Malfoy.”

The door creaked shut.

* * *

Tears poured from your eyes, staining your cheeks with a silver sheen. But no matter what, you couldn’t take your eyes off his face. His radiant smile, his bright eyes and brighter hair. His laugh was faint as it reached your ears, but regardless, it was the best sound you had ever heard. You wiped your eyes as you smiled at the sound, feeling immense relief take over you. He was okay. He was safe.

Somehow, every ounce of courage that had gotten you to Aunt Muriel’s home seemed to have vanished the minute you lay eyes on Fred through the window. You didn’t want to go in, you were too afraid. He hated you, and you knew that if you saw him give you that look again, the same look he gave all that time ago when he walked out the door for the last time, you’d collapse. You weren’t strong enough for that.

“You should come in.” You nearly yelped out loud as you whipped around, coming face to face with big eyes and red hair.

“You miss him. I can see that much. So you should come in.”

You shook your head, incredulous. “Don’t you know what I did?”

Ginny let out a bitter laugh, shifting from foot to foot. “I know what you did. Do I think you did it on purpose? No. Do I think you were forced to do so? Yes. And so does everyone else.”

You hesitated, wiping your face. “What do you mean?”

Ginny gave you a look. “I don’t know how stupid you think we are, but it was extremely obvious why you did what you did. I’ve known you for a long time, Y/N, and so has Fred. He just needed to have some sense knocked into him to make him realize. By that time, you were long gone.”

You gulped, face slack with disbelief. “You…. you _looked_  for me?”

Ginny snorted almost indignantly. “You’re family Y/N. I’m offended you’d even question that fact.”

Your eyes filled with fresh tears as you launched yourself at Ginny, shoulders shaking. She hugged you back, patting your arms.

“Okay, okay. I’ve already had to deal with a lot of crying for the past year I really don’t want to put up with this.”

You sniffled, pulling away and letting out a laugh. Ginny smiled.  

“Now what are you waiting for? Get in there!”

You sent Ginny one last grateful look before moving around the house to the front door. Taking a deep breath, you knocked. Inside, you could hear the conversation cease, before there was shuffling and footsteps.

“It’s me!” Ginny shouted from behind you, making you jump, startled. The door swung open.

“Bloody hell, Ginny, we didn’t know who it was going to be-”

Your breath hitched when brown eyes met yours. Fred looked like he’d seen a ghost as he stared at you. Involuntarily, tears filled your eyes again.

You opened your mouth to speak, but we’re cut off when Fred practically launched at you, making you stumble backwards and clutch him tightly, you could feel his shoulders heaving and your heart lurched. He was crying.

“You left.” Fred’s voice was strangled. “I looked everywhere but I couldn’t find you. Why’d you leave me, Y/N? Why didn’t you _tell_  me?”

“How could I?” Your voice cracked. “I knew that if I told you, you’d look at me like you did.” You could still remember his cold eyes and hard face. You swallowed hard at the thought.

Frdd shook his head where it was buried in your neck. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Oh Godric, this is all my fault.”

Your fingers runs through his hair, making him quieten. You heard the shuffling of feet and the gentle closing of the door, signaling that you were now alone. Fred pulled away from you a little, looking into your eyes. His trembling fingers traced over your face, caressing your cheekbones, your jawline and the dark circles under your eyes. Your eyelids fluttered shut at the sensation.

“I was so worried,” he whispered, more to himself than you. His forehead rested against yours and he touched your noses together. “I love you so much.”

“Do you forgive me?” Your voice was just as low as his.

Fred smiled a little, making your heart lurch. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

You screwed your eyes shut. “Yes there is! I nearly killed Ron! And Katie! And I’m partly the reason why-”

“Okay, okay.” Fred pulled you close by the waist, kissing your cheeks repeatedly. “I forgive you. So does everyone else.”

You sighed shakily, nodding. Fred smiled. And for the first time in a long time, your heart was filled with such bliss, you were sure that it would explode.

“Come in now, will you? You’ll crap yourself when you hear the news.”

You suppressed a laugh as Fred opened the door, grabbing your hand.

“What news?”

Fred smirked. “Remember when we promised you that you’d be the Maid of Honour in the first Weasley marriage? Yeah, that didn’t happen.”


	9. Little You (f.w)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader is tired of being so short compared to Fred. She decides to try a solution.

Fred Weasley was freakishly tall, and it was starting to become an annoyance.

At first, you thought the height difference was cute, you still thought that, but now the scales were tipping in the other direction. And it was mainly Fred’s fault.

He absolutely loved teasing you about the fact that he had nearly a foot of length on you. He did it every chance he got. When he’d wake up next to you in the morning, he’d joke about how your toes reached barely below his knees, even if you stretched them. He’d place his elbow on the top of your head when you stood next to him. He and George had the time of their lives switching all the books you needed for the day to the top shelf of the library so you’d have to use magic to get all of them down one by one. Once they charmed your dorm room furniture to hang six feet in the air, and the only way to get your stuff was to stand on a chair. _And there were no chairs because they were all hanging in the air._

Of course, it was all good fun. But frankly, you were starting to get pissed. If you heard him say  _‘How’s the weather down there?’_  one more time, you were going to kill a bitch. Preferably, your boyfriend.

Then one day, Angelina said something that caught your attention.

“Just wear heels.” She said, nonchalantly, as if it had occurred to you a million times before. Which it hadn’t.

You stared at her, the idea already forming in your head. Heels was the perfect idea. Why hadn’t you thought of that? Probably because you had never worn heels in your life. But that didn’t matter. _It’s a pair of shoes. How hard can it be?_

Oh, you were so wrong.

On your first try with the heels, you thought you were doing very well as you stared at yourself in the floor-length mirror. They were a modest black pair, not too flashy and not too dull either. And they made your legs look great. But that’s as far as the advantages went. Because walking in them was worse than walking on a tightrope, and you fell barely two steps after you’d started.

You gaped at the six inch black heels sitting on your dorm room floor where you’d thrown them, looking as innocent as could be. Even though they were the  _spawn of lucifer himself._

You rubbed your ankle again, frowning at the shoes. Maybe it was just your lack of practice. Yes, that’s right. You just had to walk around a little in them, that’s all.

Yeah, no.

You had barely taken five steps when you were yelping and falling on the floor again, sharp pain shooting through your ankle joint. Huffing, you slowly stood up again. There was no way you were losing to a pair of inanimate objects meant for your feet. This wasn’t even about being taller anymore. No way were a pair of shoes going to defeat _you._

An hour and multiple falls later, you sat on the floor, heels strapped to your outstretched feet. Your feet were by now terribly blistered and hurt like a bitch. You had a scowl on your face and tears of frustration blurring your vision. Fucking heels. How the hell do girls even  _walk_  in these?

The door squeaked open and then shut with a bang. You looked up to see familiar red hair, blinking rapidly to get a better view of your boyfriend. He stared at you, thrown off by seeing you on the floor.

“Love, what’s going on?” His eyes traveled lower to your feet. “What- what is  _that_?”

You sniffled, slightly indignant. “Heels.”

Fred leaned against the doorframe. “Okay. And why, pray tell, are you on the floor?”

You sighed, slowly pushing yourself up. Almost instantly, your legs wobbled, making you stumble forward. Gasping, Fred rushed over, grabbing your arms before you fell. With a grunt, he pulled you up and against his chest.

“Well that answers a few things.” He snickered, making you slap his chest slightly.

“Why did you get these when you can’t even stand in them, let alone walk?”

You looked up at him, the top of your head raising just a little above his chin. It felt strange to be this close to Fred’s face while standing. And it didn’t feel nearly as satisfying as you anticipated.

“Because I wanted to be taller. At least comparable to you.” You mumbled, making Fred look down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

You huffed. “C’mon Fred! I’m tired of the jokes and teasing. I don’t want to be half your size anymore.”

Fred stared at you for a little longer, as if all this was new information.

“Y/N, sweetheart, what are you  _talking_  about?” He laughed, gently pulling you backwards and sitting you on the bed. Then he leaned in front of you, unstrapping the shoes.

“You don’t need these horrendous things.” He had a smile on his face as he massaged your reddening feet gently, making you sigh in relief. Then he pulled you to stand up again. He leaned down to lift you up so you were at his eye level. Your hands automatically moved to his shoulders.

“If you were tall, I wouldn’t be able to do this, would I?” He smirked. “And I wouldn’t be able to do this either.” He walked over to the bed, sitting down on it and placing you in his lap. He wrapped his arms around you, setting his cheek on the top of your head, almost completely enveloping you.

“You wouldn’t be my cute mini muffin if you were tall, would you?”

You smiled a little, snuggling into Fred. He pulled away just enough to pepper your face with kisses, making you giggle.

“I don’t like tall you, I like little you.” He placed a firm kiss on your lips. Wrapping you in a tight hug again.

You placed a small kiss on the skin of his neck. “Okay. But the jokes have to stop.”

“Of course, my love. If I knew they bugged you so much, I wouldn’t have been that extra.”

“Fred, extra is your middle name.”

“I wouldn’t have been  _annoyingly_  extra.”

You laughed a little, relaxing in his arms. There was silence for a good five minutes. Then, Fred spoke up.

“So does that mean I can’t hold things above my head so that you’ll climb up me to reach them?”

You rolled your eyes. “No.”

Fred whined slightly. “But you look so cute doing it!”

You sighed, pretending to be pained. “Okay! But that’s all you’re allowed to do.”

Fred grinned, kissing you. “I love you, my little snowflake.”

“I love you too, you giant oaf."


	10. NSFW Alphabet (f.w)

> **A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)**

It doesn’t matter if the sex is fast and rough or slow and sensual, Fred is a total softie after sex. He loves to cuddle and rarely falls asleep right after. You’ll talk about random things for a while before it’s lights out for you two. 

 

> **B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)**

Fred likes his lips, which is mainly a consequence of your extreme obsession with them. He knows he can make you scream his name using only his lips, and he uses that to full advantage. He loves your legs. He loves running his hands over them, he loves placing little kisses on your thighs. So basically anything that shows off your legs is guaranteed to get ripped off later in the night.

 

>   **C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)**

After Fred is done fingering you, he loves to lick and suck his fingers clean. He takes his time and holds eye contact, and doesn’t stop until you are turned on enough to go again.

 

>   **D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)**

It isn’t much of a secret since you found out, but Fred has a thing for being tied up. Not often, but he enjoys it on the occasions that it happens. 

 

> **E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)**

Fred has enough experience to know what he’s doing. He hasn’t been with a whole bunch of women, but he’s been with enough to know what to do and what not to make it enjoyable. 

 

> **F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)**

Up against the wall. For some reason, lifting you up and taking you against a wall or a table is a big turn on for him, and he’ll do it as often as he can. 

 

> **G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)**

As funny and humorous things are with Fred, sex is surprisingly a somber occasion with him. He loves for it to be very intimate. However, he cracks little jokes after sex when you’re cuddled up. 

 

> **H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)**

Fred has hair down there, but it’s well groomed. He doesn’t have a problem with you having hair as long as it’s not too much, but when you shave completely it drives him crazy.

 

> **I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)**

Fred is very perceptive, and very adaptive to your mood. He usually doesn it according to how you want it, since he’s down with almost anything. He usually likes it slow and intimate, but can also use just his dirty talk to make you cum. It all depends on what mood he’s in. 

 

> **J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)**

Fred doesn’t jack off much. Why would he? You’re right there. Except that one time you both jacked off together.

 

> **K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)**

Fred loves it when you’re vocal. He enjoys hearing you tell him how well he’s doing. So basically, praise kink. 

 

> **L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)**

Literally anywhere. Fred respects your wishes, and if you’re down with it, it’ll happen. He will back off if you feel uncomfortable of course, but you take as much risks as him. He has pulled you into an empty storage closet or broom closet more than once. You even did it in the office behind his shop while customers lurked outside once.

 

> **M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)**

As I said, he loves your legs. So if he sees you in a short dress, or wearing nothing but his shirt, he will take you right there and then. It’s actually something you use quite frequently to get what you want. 

 

> **N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)**

Fred doesn’t like breathplay. It’s too risky, according to him. He’s okay with light bandage but the line is drawn when it comes to choking.

 

> **O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)**

Fred loves giving and receiving both. And his favourite form to do so is oral. He loves making you come just by giving oral, it gives him an incredible amount of control over the situation. And of course, he won’t deny it when you pay the favour back. 

 

> **P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)**

Fred is down with both fast and slow, and it always depends on what the situation at the time is. He can be rough and dominant when you’d been teasing him, but slow and soft when the situation entails. 

 

> **Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)**

Quickies are occasional with Fred. He loves taking risks, and he won’t hesitate to pull you aside anywhere to have his way with you. Of course, he makes sure to leave you fully satisfied after every such encounter. 

 

> **R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)**

Fred is big risk taker when it comes to sex. He always asks you first, like the true gentleman he is, and if you’re down. It will happen. Of course, he has certain limits as well, and will not cross them.

 

> **S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)**

Fred is an energy ball both in and out of bed. So it’s not a surprise that he can make you cum more than twice only during the foreplay, before he even gets to the actual thing.

 

>   **T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)**

You don’t use toys often, but there have been a few wacky things you’ve tried. If you want to do it, Fred is down too. 

 

> **U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)**

Fred is a huge tease when he feels like it. He can drag things out for hours if he wants to. The satisfaction of seeing you squirm is too intense not to.

 

> **V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)**

Fred is quite vocal in bed. It’s mostly just noises instead of words, but it’s a huge booster for your self esteem. 

 

> **W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)**

You don’t do it often, but you playing Quidditch is the hottest thing Fred has ever seen. It turns him on to no extent and it often leads to steamy hot sex in the Gryffindor locker room or somewhere else along the way there if he’s too impatient.

 

>   **X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)**

Fred is more towards girth than length. He’s not too long, not too short, but quite thick.

 

> **Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)**

Fred can go very long if he wants to. His self control is unbelievable if he wills it to be that way. It depends on what mood he’s in and how much he wants to tease you before he goes all the way. 

 

> **Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)**

Fred is not the kind of person who starts feeling sleepy after sex. If you want to, you two can talk for hours before actually going to sleep. But if you’re tired, he’ll just hug you tightly to him and you’d both fall asleep. 


	11. First Born Child (g.w)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George and the reader have an impromptu discussion about their future.

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad do you want to kill me right now?” George asked as he tried to get a particularly difficult stain off the window. **  
**

You huffed, throwing your dusting cloth on the floor and sitting down next to it. “I’m hovering somewhere in the high thirties.” You replied, causing George to turn to you with a grin on his face.

After a prank gone disastrously wrong, George and Fred had pleaded with you to lie and cover their asses, something that you had, regretfully, agreed to. Even after being friends with them for seven years, dating the younger twin for four, and getting into trouble countless times, you still helped them escape more severe punishments. Why? Because your boyfriend had gut-wrenching puppy eyes. Except this time, your lie was a bit too far-fetched, and it landed you and George in detention.

“You owe me at least 20 Galleons, a vial of your blood, and your first born child.” You continued, staring at George as he sat down next to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you sideways into his lap.

His grin softened to a small smile. “How can I owe you your own child?”

Your heart quickened at the implication of his statement. You loved George, and you knew he loved you, but you had never talked about the future before. Him and his twin had always been ‘live in the moment’ type of guys, so the hint towards a future that involved _children_  was a huge deal. And it made your heart swell.

George must have sensed the overwhelming impact of his words, as he pulled you closer to his body.

“Do you want a boy or a girl?” He whispered, lips brushing against your ear. You bit your lip to suppress your smile but failed miserably. Reaching a hand up, you ran it through his hair, making his eyes flutter shut.

“I don’t know. At least one of each.” George still had a smile on his lips, leaning into your hand and shifting you so you were straddling him.

“I wanna have a lot of kids,” he said, tone playful, trying to lighten the situation. “How about seven? We’ll make a Quidditch team!”

You slapped him lightly on the arm, expression of mock mortification on your face. “I am _not_  giving birth to seven children!”

Both of you diffused into laughter after that, your hands on his shoulders while his held you steady by the waist. Calming down, you looked into his eyes and pulled him closer, closing the gap for a much wanted kiss. He hummed against your mouth, grip on your waist tightening.

“I want to do everything with you,” he mumbled, hands shifting to wrap his arms around your waist, bodies pressing together. You smiled against his lips, not breaking contact, only kissing him harder to let him know you felt the same. You didn’t have to tell him how much he meant to you; he already knew. Your heart soared at the thought of settling down with George, getting married and having kids. Thinking about it now, it seemed much more plausible.

A cough made you two break away and look towards the source of the noise. Filch was standing in the doorway of the classroom, looking annoyed and slightly awkward.

“Get back to work, both of you!” He spat out before rushing off. You looked back at George who was shaking his head.

“That slimy git needs some love in his life.” He stated, making you giggle and stand up. You pulled him up and gave him another kiss and a wink. “We’ll continue this after detention, yeah?”


	12. Please Don't Leave Me (g.w)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George is a mess after the Battle of Hogwarts. The reader tries her best to be there for him.

You rubbed your eyes to get rid of your exhaustion as you folded another blanket, draping it on the living room couch. You looked around to see that the living room was finally clean, so with a sigh, you made your way up the stairs.

You felt weary to the bone. Your legs felt like they were made of lead as you slowly pulled yourself up each step, eyes weighing heavily. You wanted to sleep so badly, but you knew that you had to do one more thing before you allowed yourself that luxury.

The door creaked as you pushed it open and stepped in. You squinted, trying to make out something in the room through the dim light. You had taken three steps into the room when you tripped.

“Good lord,” you mumbled when you heard the all too familiar sound of a glass bottle rolling on the floor. Sighing, you pulled out your wand and lit the two lamps in the room.

A groan was heard from the far corner of the room. You looked at George Weasley, or at least, what used to be George Weasley, as he squinted through the light, rubbing his eyes. Two empty bottles of Firewhiskey were placed at his feet where he sat on the floor, a third one half empty in his hand. You sighed. He was drunk. Again.

You slowly made your way over to him. Sitting down next to him, you both silently stared into space while you waited for his drunken mind to register that you were there. Once it did, he blinked at you, eyes blank and disoriented.

“Hey, you.” You kept your voice soft. When he didn’t react, you continued. “Are you tired?”

George slowly nodded, still staring off into space. But it was all the answer you needed.

“Then let’s get you to bed, yeah?” You placed a hand on his arm cautiously. When he didn’t flinch away, you moved in downwards to his hand, gently taking the bottle of Firewhiskey and placing it on the floor. Then, you wrapped an arm around his waist, applying enough pressure to make him stand up.

His weight sagged on you and you stumbled slightly. Regaining your balance, you slowly made your way to one of the beds. You lay George down on it, covering him with the blankets. He knocked out in mere seconds.

Sighing again, you turned to make your way back downstairs to the couch to finally get some sleep. There was no way you were sleeping in the other bed in the room. Your heart wouldn’t allow it.

Your feet felt like dead weight as you carried them downstairs. You didn’t have to get comfortable. You fell asleep as soon as your body touched the cushions.

* * *

The next day was the same. And the next, and the next. It had been four months since the Battle of Hogwarts, four months since the Weasleys lost Fred, four months since George lost his twin. And nothing had changed. George got drunk the first night. And he still got drunk, every night.

You couldn’t blame him, he had lost one half of his own soul. But you were worried about him. This kind of drinking wasn’t healthy. Nor such neglect. He was barely eating, and what he did eat was what you force fed him. He was dismissive, bordering on aggressive. He had never treated you that way. But now, he didn’t seem to care about anything at all.

You had taken full responsibility of George. He needed you, even though he never said it. Molly had enough on her plate, so you took over George’s care, and it was proving to be harder and harder each day.

You missed him terribly. You missed his hugs and kisses and his smile. With all the time you spent trying to keep him from completely getting off the rails, you hadn’t grieved for Fred. You hadn’t shed a single tear for your best friend, and it was slowly building up until you were sure you would explode.

Today was one of your less emotionally stable days. It was noon and George was already drunk. He sat in his usual corner, staring into space. You had just finished cleaning up after a late breakfast. Halfway through, Molly seemed to realize that today was not a good day. So despite your insistence, she had sent you off to get some rest. Of course, you would not go to sleep before checking in on George.

Your emotions were all over the place. So you weren’t surprised that when you saw him sitting there, looking nothing like what he used to, you finally,  _finally_  collapsed.

You fell to your knees right there in the doorway, sobs racking your body as you allowed yourself to cry for the first time since Fred’s death. You felt the grief, the exhaustion and the regret wash all over you, so intense you could barely breathe. You wanted to scream, but your recurring sobs stopped you. Tears were pouring from your eyes, your heart constricting as you tried to breathe. Your hands pulled at your hair, the anguish flooding your veins. At that moment, you wanted nothing more than to die on the spot. It was too much. You couldn’t take it anymore.

The rushing noise in your ears made the shuffling of feet inaudible, but you certainly felt the gentle hands take your arms. You looked up to see George, looking more focused than he had in months. You realized he wasn’t as drunk as you had initially thought. He pulled you up to your feet and moved you towards his bed. You were still crying, trying to remain steady on your feet. George helped you lay down and you clutched his shirt when he moved away.

“Ple-ease don't…please don’t leave me,” you managed to choke out. Your eyes were too blurred to make out his expression, but you felt him slowly slide under the blanket with you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, pulling you close so his body was flush against yours. His heartbeat was calmer than you anticipated. It helped reduce your sobs to gentle tremors. Listening to it, you slowly fell into the best sleep you had had in a really long time.

* * *

When you opened your eyes, you were met with empty sheets and bright sunlight. You blinked a few times until you realized you were still in George’s room. You had forgotten what it looked like when it was well lit up. Your breakdown came back you then, and you remembered George. Sitting up, you looked at the clock. You hadn’t slept more than four hours, yet you felt better than you had in ages.

You finally recognized the steady whooshing sound you’d been hearing ever since you woke up. It was the tap water in the adjoining bathroom. Standing up, you slowly moved closer to the sound, still slightly disoriented from your sleep.

George was standing in front of the sink, but the water running in front of him was ignored. He was staring at himself in the mirror, which shocked you straight out of your sleepy state. The day they had returned, George had covered all the mirrors in the house, since the only thing he saw was Fred whenever he looked at them. Now however, he was openly staring at his reflection, mouth slightly open.

“That’s not me,” he croaked. “That’s not Fred either.”

And he was right. Ever since the Battle, George had lost a considerable amount of weight. His face had thinned beyond belief, skin sickly pale and eyes sunken. Dark circles bordered them, making him look almost ghastly. His hair was a mess, as were his clothes. All in all, he looked terrible.

“No wonder you started crying as soon as you looked at me.” George made a poor attempt at a joke, cringing as soon as it came out of his mouth. For you, though, it was so characteristically George, yet so strange for him to make a joke at this time, it made you giggle slightly.

He turned to look at you then, and for the first time in four months, a ghost of a smile graced his face. But it was gone as soon as it came.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice low as if he was scared of speaking too loud. “I’m so sorry.” He moved closer to you then, and you pulled him into a hug, another first in many months.

You could feel him struggle with his words. You knew what he wanted to say.  _I was selfish. I forgot about you. I only thought about myself._ You pulled away just enough to look at him, face inches from his. Then, you shook your head, telling him that he didn’t have to say anything.

George let out a breath and bumped his nose to yours, closing your eyes as if to take in your presence. You leaned forward, slightly hesitant, before placing your lips lightly on his.

He reciprocated slowly, small pecks and unsure hands. Then, it got a little deeper, long winded kisses and breathless sighs. You pressed your lips harder to his, yearning for his taste after months of being starved. He seemed to feel the same way as your kisses grew more desperate, more sloppy. It was nowhere near perfect, but it was all you needed.

George held you tighter. “Please don’t leave me.” He repeated your words from last night against your lips, and you knew exactly what he meant. _Please don’t leave me like Fred did._ You kissed him harder, pulling him impossibly closer, his heartbeat erratic against your chest. You then said what he had replied last night.

“I’m not going anywhere.”


	13. Two In A Cart (g.w)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know we are strangers but please get on this ferris wheel with me so I don’t have to get on it with my creep friend.

Amusement Parks were supposed to be fun. So why did you want to dig a hole in the ground and die in it?

Because Andrew, a friend of yours, wouldn’t leave you alone.

He liked you. That much was obvious with the amount of groping and flirting he did. You hated it, but a major flaw in your personality, you did not know how to say No.

He didn’t seem to realize you were  _not_  interested. According to him, you were just shy, and he would ‘open you up’. The suggestive wink he threw your way when he said that made you cringe, and you had to shower twice when you got home just so you could feel normal again.

He had run into you and your friends, Mary and her boyfriend Michael, when you decided to have fun at an Amusement Park. And in the hour he had been with you,  _he had not left you alone._

Right now, your two friends decided a Ferris wheel was in order, since you  _were_  at an amusement park. You didn’t argue, you liked ferris wheels. But then, the worst possible thing happened.

“Sorry, there has to be at least two people in a cart,” said the bored looking man at the counter when you said you wanted to go alone. Your friend Mary had obviously chosen her boyfriend Michael. Leaving you with….  _Andrew._

Mary gave you an apologetic look, and you knew there was no getting out of this. You hadn’t thought this would happen when you gushed about how much you loved ferris wheels. So you couldn’t say you were scared of heights to stop getting on the ride. Andrew gave you a grin and threw his arm around your shoulders. You shifted uncomfortably, wanting to throw it off. He didn’t budge.

“Guess it’s me and you, sweetheart.”

Your heart was racing. No.  _Hell_  no. You were _not_  getting in a cart with Andrew. No way. You’d rather cut your own arm off.

“Actually, I uh….” You were panicking. “I’m going on there with someone else.”  _What?_

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Who?”

“My uh… my friend who was going to meet me here.” You gestured vaguely behind you.

Andrew seemed disappointed. “But can’t we go? I’m sure whoever it is won’t mind.”

“A-actually, I kind of made a promise.” _Literally, Y/N, what the fuck?_ “I’m going to go get them.” You blurted out, turning on your heel and walking swiftly away.

 _Stupid. You idiot. Should have just said you weren’t in the mood of a ferris wheel. Where the hell are you going to get an entire person from?_ Your mind seemed to register just how terrible your idea was the farther you walked away from Andrew. Finally, you stopped when you were sure he could no longer see you. Then, you looked around. You had to find someone else who was alone and wanted to go on the ferris wheel. The chances were slim, but you were not getting on that ferris wheel with Andrew. He’d try to kiss you and…. you shuddered at the thought.

A shock of red hair caught your eye. It was a guy who looked about your age. Tall and lanky, he was standing alone, looking at the ferris wheel with a strange look on his face. Was it wonder? Confusion? You didn’t have time to think about it. You walked over to him and tapped his shoulder.

He turned to look at you. His dark brown eyes were kind, welcoming and made you feel comfortable enough to talk. He gave you a questioning look.

“Do you want to go on the ferris wheel with me?” you blurted out, and cringed at the sentence immediately.  _Worst way to start this_. Before he could reply, you continued.

“Look, there’s this guy who wants to get in a cart with me. He’s kind of a pervert, and I can’t say no to him unless I have a good reason. You look like you’re here alone. Please, it’s not more than fifteen minutes. I’ll be forever grateful.”

He finally seemed to find his voice. “I’m not here alone, actually. My twin-”

You gave him a pleading look, biting your lip and wringing your hands. He hesitated, then shrugged. “Oh what the hell. Fine.”

You let out a little squeak, then sighed in relief. “Oh thank you so much! I owe you. Big time.”

He gave you a smile and you couldn’t help but smile back. That’s when you noticed how cute he was. Playful, friendly, you almost felt like you already knew him.

You grabbed his arm and dragged him with you to where Andrew stood. Mary and Michael were already in a cart. He gave the red headed stranger behind you a suspicious look.

“This is your friend?” You nodded.

“Yes, this is…”  _Oh god, I don’t know his name_. The stranger piped up.

“George. George Weasley.” Weasley… you had heard that name before. It seemed familiar, but you couldn’t place it. You shrugged it off, thinking it wasn’t a big deal.

You breathed out a sigh of relief when you finally got into the cart. George sat across from you, looking a little uncomfortable, and you realized just how rude and weird the situation was.

“I’m sorry. Dragging you here with me like that. I’m sure you have better stuff to do than be a knight in shining armor.”

George smiled. “It’s no big deal. A knight in shining armor for a beautiful damsel in distress? Trust me, I don’t mind.”

You giggled and blushed.  _He is not flirting, he’s just being kind._

“So, George, is it? George Weasley?” He nodded. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“I could’ve sworn I’ve heard that name before. Weasley.”

George seemed surprised. “Oh?” He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “I’m sure there’s lots of people named Weasley.

You shrugged. “I don’t know, Weasley isn’t a common name. But I guess so.”

The cart lurched, then began to move. George, who was sitting opposite to you, looked like he was going to vomit.

“Scared of heights?” You asked. George shook his head.

“No. No, I just wasn’t expecting that.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t been on a ferris wheel before?”

George shook his head again, looking anywhere but your eyes. “No I…. I’m not from around here.”

“Ah….”

Silence.

George cleared his throat. “Yeah… I um, don’t get out much.”

You couldn’t help but snort. George looked at you.

“What?”

You shook your head, not able to hide your grin. “Nothing, nothing…. you’re just… a really bad liar.”

George actually looked offended at what you said. “Well, excuse you. I’ll have you know, me and my brother are the best liars in our school.”

You continued to grin. “Oh, are you? Does he do all the lying?”

George pouted, making you laugh.  _What a child. He is so adorable._

“I help you get away from that perverted psycho, only to be insulted? Outrageous!”

You couldn’t help but let out a chortle. “Aw, I’m sorry. Did I hurt your ego?” You teased. For some reason, George looked like someone who liked to joke, and therefore, could take a joke too.

He fake sniffled. “Yes, yes you have.”

“Well, how do I make it up to you?”

George’s pout was then replaced by a smirk. He leaned forward and stared at you. His eyes still held mirth.

“Kiss it better?”

Your breath hitched. You continued to look at him, not knowing if he was serious. George, however, didn’t laugh or lean back. He continued to look at you, moving forward. The cart was small, it didn’t take much effort for him to move closer until your knees touched, until his face was inches from yours.

Your face felt like it was on fire. Your heart was beating louder now, eyes trained on George’s lips, which were slightly parted and very rosy.

He stopped when his lips were just a smidge away from yours, as if to ask for permission. You didn’t hesitate to touch your lips to his.

His intake of breath was almost audible as he kissed you back, adding just a little force. It was very soft and very hesitant, both of you not wanting to cross boundaries. He pulled away after a few moments, eyes fluttering open to look at you.

“Was that okay?” he whispered and you nodded, at a loss for words. That’s when you noticed you had reached the top of the ferris wheel.

You looked down, smile on your face as you viewed the miniature city underneath you. George looked around as well, holding the seat beneath him tightly. He had a look of such innocent wonder on his face, you couldn’t help your smile.

“Looks great.” He kept his voice low. It sent chills down your spine. Your hands were still clammy, your heart just  _wouldn’t calm down_. And you couldn’t take your eyes off George.

“Sorry love, but the view’s down there.”He was smirking. You breathed out a laugh.

“I don’t know, this seems like a much better view to me.” You didn’t know what made you so confident, you never flirted with random people. But George wasn’t random.  _Weasley. Where have I heard that name before?_

Then it dawned on you and your eyes widened. “Oh my god.” Your voice was a whisper.

“You’re a wizard!”

George nearly fell off his seat, eyes wide enough to pop out of his head. “Beg your pardon?”

You grinned. “You’re Arthur Weasley’s son, yeah? My uncle is a wizard. They both work together at the ministry!”

George was still staring at you. “Well, what do you know? A small world indeed.”

You laughed. “I knew I recognized your name!”

George was still grinning wide. “I’m so glad I won’t have to explain the whole magic thing to you once we start dating.”

You blinked, shocked. “D-dating?”

George was smirking now, leaning forward. “You said you owed me for saving your ass down there, yeah? How about we grab something to eat after we get off this giant muggle wheel?”


	14. Like, Really Love You (g.w)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know, for a genius, you’re kind of a dumbass.”

“That was  _insane_!” You laughed. “Oh my god I can’t believe you pulled that off!”   
  
“Escape first, praise later!” George panted, grabbing your arm and pulling you to go faster. You continued to grin as you followed him and Fred through the halls. Students yelped and struggled to get out of the way as you three barreled through, not slowing in the slightest. You took an abrupt turn into a smaller hallway, looking around. 

“We need to find a place to hide!” You said, breathlessly. George grabbed your arm again, pulling open a door and pushing you inside, getting in after you and closing the door. Fred’s footsteps got farther, then the sound of a door opening and slamming. Then…. silence.   
  
“Ow.” You yelped as George stepped on your foot. He immediately started shushing you.   
  
“Sorry. I’m sorry. But you have to keep quiet.” His voice was a mere whisper as he tried to slow his breaths.

You realized then the close proximity between you and George. The room you had stepped in was in fact, not a room at all. It was a small storage closet, crammed full of cardboard boxes. Your front was completely pressed to George’s, you could feel his rapidly beating heart. You blushed, glad that the closet was pitch black apart from the strip of light from under the door. You could feel every muscle of George’s body, making you take a deep breath to try and calm yourself down.

You had known Fred and George almost all your life, having grown up with him and spending all your time at the Burrow. You had only started catching feelings for the younger twin in your third year. Somehow, suddenly, his smile made your heart stutter and his touch made you swoon. Of course, you gradually learned to conceal your overbearing crush on him, but this much contact could make even the most trained people squirm.

There was silence for a little bit, the only sounds being your breaths rapidly coming in and out.

“We should have thought about our hiding place.” He muttered, trying hard to keep his balance and not fall completely onto you.

You laughed nervously and cleared your throat. Silence stretched between you again, this time awkward.

“How long before we get out? Maybe we’re in the clear. I mean, I can’t hear any-”

You were interrupted by loud shrieks in the voice of Filch. His voice passed right on the other side of the door, screaming profanities so colourful it would make McGonagall shriek that they were being spoken in a school filled with kids. You heard George smother his laughter, both of you quiet again. When his voice faded, he finally let out a snicker.

“He’s really going ape shit, isn’t he?” He said, breath tickling your ear. You shivered at the feeling, face hot again, praying to whatever gods were listening that George didn’t notice.

But of course, the world hated you, so George noticed. He pulled back as much as the confined space allowed him to, peering at your face. His nose brushed against yours, making you jump.

“Y/N, are you alright?” One of his hands rested on your forehead. “Are you sick? Why are you shivering?”

You let out a shaky laugh at that, heart still maddeningly fast. This  _fucker_. He couldn’t actually be that clueless.

**“You know, for a genius, you’re kind of a dumbass.”**

A small silence stretched between you two as you waited for George’s reply. You could feel every twitch of his muscles, the feeling making you nearly dizzy. You shut your eyes.

“I don’t know if I should be flattered that you called me a genius, or offended that you called me a dumbass.” He said finally. You laughed again, for some reason, you weren’t nervous about what you were going to do. Maybe your head was so clouded by the close contact, you seemed to just not care anymore.

So you didn’t hesitate in placing your lips on George’s, eyes squeezed shut. You felt him tense up immediately, frozen in place. Just as your fears hit you full force and you moved to pull away, his right hand came up behind your head, pulling you back so your lips were pressed harder to his. His other hand wrapped around your waist, your body pressed to his tightly, not that it was already very far.

The kiss didn’t last long as you pulled away, looking at the outline of George’s face in the dark. Your breaths were heavy, mixing with his as you spoke.

“In case you still haven’t put it together,  _genius_ , **I’m not sure when it happened, but I fell in love with you, and it was the best thing I’ve ever done**.”

George laughed slightly, burying his head in your shoulder, nose nuzzling into your neck. He presses small kisses there, making you sigh.

“I can’t believe it. You actually love me?”

You smiled, running your hands through his hair. “Yeah, I do.”

“Like, really love me?”

You bit your lip to suppress your grin. “Like, really love you.”

He laughed then, grip on you tightening even more. He pulled you into another kiss, this one harder and hotter. You sighed into his mouth and his tongue slid against yours, immediately assuming dominance. You keened at his change in demeanor, pulling at his shirt before unbuttoning it. His hands slid under your shirt, caressing the bare skin of your stomach and back.

You moaned at the feeling, running one hand over his newly exposed chest and the other through his hair, tugging at it. He groaned into your mouth and bit your bottom lip, making you gasp again.

You had just started pushing his shirt off his shoulders when light suddenly burst into your vision. You squinted against it, breaking away from George. Someone had opened the door. You pulled your shirt down by instinct, as George fixed himself.

Fred was standing on the other side of the door, nearly on the ground with laughter.

“Lee owes me five galleons!” He managed to gasp out through his giggles, before turning and running away.

You looked at George and he looked back, then both of you simultaneously burst into laughter. Once you had calmed down enough and moved into the hallway, he finally spoke.

“For the record, I, like, really love you too.”


	15. Tasting Sweet (g.w)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soulmate AU where you can taste everything your soulmate eats.

Every single person on the planet wanted to meet their soulmate.

They wanted to meet their soulmate so they could fall in love. So they could spend the rest of their lives together, happy and content. So they could have children, raise a family, be happy together.

You didn’t want to meet your soulmate for those reasons, oh no no. You wanted to meet your soulmate so you could break their teeth.

You see, everyone on the planet could taste everything their soulmate ate. Which meant you could taste what  _your_  soulmate ate. And good Merlin, the only thing he ate were  _sweets._

It didn’t matter what kind. Chocolates, candies, flavoured beans, any thing that was sweet seemed to be magnetically attracted to your soulmate’s mouth.

Before you found out you were a witch, set to attend Hogwarts, all these tastes were somewhat unfamiliar to you. These were strange flavours you had not tasted before, and it was only when you were exposed to wizard candy that you realized what you were actually tasting. But that’s not really the point.

The point is that your mouth was boiled rotten with the amount of sweets you had been tasting since you were born.

It wasn’t a problem at first, you loved sweets as a kid, who doesn’t? But as you grew older and turned your attention to other, more savoury treats, you had the worst time eating them, given the long lasting sweet aftertaste permanently present in your mouth. You tried everything to get rid of it. You brushed your teeth raw, rinsed your mouth till it hurt, but of course, it was a wired and inherited characteristic of every soulmate, you couldn’t erase it. As a result, you grew to hate sweets. You had loved them, and everyone was incredulous, (‘how can you hate  _sweets_?’) but he had ruined it for you, that sweet addicted little shit.

There were, of course, times where your soulmate would eat something else, but they were nothing compared to the amount of sweets he ingested. You loved your soul mate, of course. You had been made to do so. But if he continued to eat sweets at the rate that he was, you swore to Godric Gryffindor you would never want to see his face, ever.

And so your life was passing by, sweet sweet sweet flavours in your mouth, your tolerance for your soulmate getting progressively worse. You always knew what you would do if you met him, you would give him a piece of your fist. You had it all planned out.

And then, you actually met him.

You weren’t expecting to, of course. And so you weren’t excited. Your heart didn’t skip a beat and your breath didn’t hitch. None of that sappy crap. In fact, you felt your anger rise. He was doing the  _one thing_ you hated about him.  _Eating fucking sweets._

Your eyes locked on the back of his ginger head where it stuck out on top of a booth in The Three Broomsticks, you walked briskly over to him. You had the taste of the chocolate frog on your tongue, and you saw him shove another into his mouth, hence you knew he was your soulmate.

You stopped right in front of him, eyes alight with anger. You leaned down and gave him your best death glare.

“Put that in your mouth, and you’ll see the consequences. I dare you.”

He stared at you, eyes huge and brown.  _They are kind of pretty…._ You mentally shook your head.

Slowly, the redhead raised his hand, movements deliberate as he placed the little frog in his mouth, chewing.

Your cheek twitched, lips pursing at the now, frankly disgusting taste flooding your mouth. You let out a cry of exasperation before turning around and storming out of the building.

Of course your threat was an empty one. You couldn’t _really_ kill him. No matter how he was, he was your soulmate. You paused.

You had just met your soulmate. You had just met the person made especially for you. And he was….. George Weasley.

In your anger and frustration, you had failed to realize who your soulmate was. You had always dreamed of telling him off because of his sweet addiction, you hadn’t even noticed it was  _George Weasley_. One half of the infamous Weasley twins. You were mere acquaintances, but you liked him well enough. Who didn’t? He was funny and witty, and him and his twin were the life of every social situation.

He was nothing like the obnoxious, rude, sweet addicted guy you had imagined and expected to hate for the rest of your life. No. George Weasley was  _fit_. Eyes brighter than the stars, softer than the wind. Hair so outrageously red it hurt to look at, but so amazingly beautiful at the same time. Personality like the sun; everyone gravitated towards him. Smiles big, laughs contagious… and he was your  _soulmate_.

You felt a little uneasy then, about the way you had just treated him. People always cherished the moment they would meet their soulmates. Fantasizing about it, wanting it to be perfect, the perfect story to tell. And you had just threatened to kill him.

Cringing, you sat down on the bench outside the Three Broomsticks. You felt the taste of chocolate fade away slightly, making you sigh. Goddamnit. George was a nice person. He had done nothing but be kind to you during all of your very rare interactions. And you had been a total bitch.

“Well, not a _total_  bitch. Took me all of two minutes to reflect on how much candy I’ve eaten in my life.”

You yelped out in fright, turning around. George was standing right outside the door to the Three Broomsticks, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a small bag. Your face flushed red and you scowled at him to hide it, turning back around to stare at the street. There was a shuffling behind you, and then you felt George sit down next to you. Your heartbeat was starting to increase slightly, making you scoff internally.  _What a typical reaction to soulmates. I don’t even like him._

“You don’t?”

Your head snapped over to him. “Do I keep saying  _everything_ out loud?”

He snorted. “Up until now, yeah.”

You felt your blush coming back so you broke your eye contact with him, head high, trying to convince yourself you didn’t like him. An unlikely statement, but it didn’t stop you. _He’s been eating sweets all his life. He’s the one who ruined your palate._

 _And you’re going to reject your soulmate because of your palate?_ The annoying voice in your head asked.

The crinkling of a paper bag brought you back to reality. George was opening his little bag, before holding it out to you, offering the contents inside. More chocolate frogs.

You looked up at him with the best disgusted look you could muster. He responded with a bemused smirk.

“C’mon, they’re not that bad.”

“For someone who had to taste them all their life? They are.”

“Well, I’ve eaten them all my life. Doesn’t bother me. Still love them.”

You huffed. “Well, you’re not human, then. Honestly, I can’t  _believe_ your sweet tooth.”

George laughed then, making a smile tug on your lips. You straightened your face immediately. Nope. Not happening.

“Oh, me and Fred charmed our teeth to be rot-free a long time ago.”

You blinked. “You _what_?”

“Took a while to get it right. Almost knocked all of our teeth out with a test charm. Imagine if you had a toothless soulmate.”

His joke seemed to have the opposite effect of the intended. It only served to remind you two of your destiny to be together. And also, your behaviour back in the building.

“I’m sorry I threatened to kill you.”

George actually giggled at that. “It’s no problem. Sorry about eating so many sweets.”

You finally cracked your first smile. “It's…. okay, I guess.”

He grinned big, then. Large and toothy, making a smile break onto your own face.

He laughed. “So does that mean you won’t get mad if I eat this?”

He held up a small chocolate frog. Your smile vanished. “Don’t you dare.”

George laughed again, loud and amused. “Does that also mean I can’t eat candy anymore?”

You shook your head. “Nope. I am not tolerating that horrid taste anymore.”

“Not ever?”

“Not ever.”

“Not in any way?”

“Not in any way.”

“Not even like this?”

Before you could ask, he pressed his lips to yours. You froze in shock, feeling strange sensations wash all over you. Chills ran down your body, muscles going pliant under George’s touch as he ran his hands down your cheeks, cupping your neck.

You kissed him back, tasting the all too familiar chocolate in his mouth, much stronger than the taste in your own. His tongue caressed yours, and you couldn’t help but let out a small moan. He smirked against your lips and pulled away, looking at you with his soft eyes. Come to think of it, they looked like chocolate as well.

Dazed, you opened your mouth to speak. “Well, I wouldn’t mind if I had to taste it  _that_ way…”

George chuckled slightly, pecking your lips again. He pulled away completely, then. Standing up, he offered his hand.

“Why don’t we go eat something else? Something of your choice?”


	16. Kiss Me, Fred (g.w)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George has an embarrassing crush on the owner of the shop across the road. He decides to talk to her as Fred.

“Oooh, Freddie! She’s reading that book again.”

Fred looked up from the counter. “What book?”

“You know, the one with the yellow cover.”

Fred pulled his best poker face. “Sorry Georgie, I’m not the creepy twin who stalks the cute shopkeeper across from us.”

George pouted, feeling slightly offended. “I don’t stalk her….I just like watching her do cute things.”

“Ah yes, and staring at a book for an hour straight is so cute.”

“Don’t attack me.” George continued looking out the window. “Why is she still reading? It’s her dinner time.”

George heard a snort behind him. “Yeah mate, that’s not creepy at all.”

George finally turned his back to the window, walking towards where Fred was going through receipts showcasing the sales of the day. “Well, what do _you_  suggest I do?”

Fred gave him a really? look. “Oh I don’t know, talk to her like a normal human being?”

George leaned his hip on the counter, watching Fred. “And say what? _‘Hi, I’m your extremely creepy neighbour who likes watching you from afar rather than asking you out because I’m too afraid you’ll reject me.’_  Would make for a great conversation starter.”

Fred grinned at George. “See? You already have something to talk about. At least it won’t be awkward silence.”

George sighed dramatically, leaning his head on the counter surface. “I’m a lost cause.”

Fred laughed. “You really should talk to her mate. She’s very nice. I reckon she’ll love to hear from you.”

George looked up. “Really?”

Fred nodded, gathering the pages up. “I happened to mention a very charming and witty twin of mine when I went to see her.” He winked.

George felt a grin similar to Fred’s spread over his face. “You’re wicked, mate.”

Fred moved to climb the steps. “I know.”

* * *

The doorbell made Fred look up at his twin.

“I’m not sure I’m expecting someone Georgie. Are you?”

George shook his head, moving towards the door. He pulled it open to see the last person he was expecting, yet the only person he was thinking about.

“Y-Y/N?” She stared at him with big eyes that made his knees weak. She was holding a package that looked most likely to contain clothes.

“Uh…Fred?”

George gave her a blank look. She blinked. “George, then. Sorry, you two look very alike.”

George suppressed a smile. “Well, yes. I would hope so. Considering we are twins.”

He watched in amusement as a blush took over her cheeks.  _Good Merlin, she is so adorable._

“Of course, yes….sorry.”

George shook his head. “What can I do for you?”

Realization seemed to dawn on her face. “Oh um, I have a date and there’s something wrong with my shower. This is a little out of line but I’m desperate. Do you think maybe I could use yours?”

George blinked in surprise.  _She had a date?_  Gulping, he tried to keep the disappointment from his voice when he spoke. “Sure. Of course, uh…” He stepped aside.

She sighed in relief. “Thank you so much George! I owe you big time.” She stepped over the threshold, holding the package to her chest.

Fred raised an eyebrow as they entered the living room. “Wotcher Y/N! Every okay?”

She nodded, smiling. “Hi Fred. Everything is fine. Just wanted to use your shower since mine just went bonkers.”

Fred smiled. “Well, feel free to do just that.” He pointed to the hall. “Second door to the left.”

She sent them both a smile again. “Thanks!” Then she walked away. When the door shut, Fred gave George a look.

“What crawled up your arse and died? I thought you’d be jumping with happiness to see her.”

George pulled a face. “She has a date.”

Fred raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yup.” Sighing, George flopped down on the couch, pout on his face.

Fred returned to his work, flipping pages filled with prank plans. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, this is all your fault.”

George turned to him, indignant. “The fuck, mate?”

He nodded. “If you had just asked her out instead of stalking her like a creep, you would be snogging each other’s faces off right now.Instead, you’re just moping because she is doing what any normal person would do.”

George  sniffled. “I know, I don’t blame her.”

Fred sighed. “I’m sorry, Georgie. Maybe it won’t work out.”

George grumbled. “Maybe.”

* * *

George was still in a foul mood the next morning. He couldn’t seem to get over watching Y/N go on a date. The jealousy in him was burning to an all time high and all he wanted to do was murder the guy that she went on a date with. Of course, that was a level of crazy even he wouldn’t cross. So he just resorted to sulking the whole day away.  It was around lunchtime that Fred seemed to have had enough.

“You need to talk to her about this.” He said as he pushed George towards the door of the shop. “ I can’t keep working with your annoyingly sad face any longer.”

George pushed against Fred. “No offense but I’d rather die.”

With one last push, George went over the threshold. He turned to look at Fred, who was giving him a look. “Stop being dramatic. She won’t murder you if you tell her. Be a man, George.”

With that, he shut the door and locked it.

“You’re not coming in unless she knows!” He screamed through the glass.

George shot him a middle finger before turning to face the very familiar bookstore.

His eyes widened when he saw Y/N. She was looking curiously out of the window at him, probably wondering what the commotion was about. George gulped, not knowing what to do.

Suddenly, the _most brilliant idea ever_ popped into his mind. Suppressing a positively evil smirk, he shot a huge smile at Y/N, walking swiftly across the street and opening the shop’s door.

She seemed surprised at his sudden entrance, closing the book in her lap and leaning against the counter where she was standing.

“Wotcher, Y/N!” He said, knowing he sounded exactly like Fred.

She smiled. “Fred, yeah?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

She pushed her book to the side when he stepped up to the counter. He smiled. Somehow, his plan had pushed all his nerves away.

“So how’d your date last night go?”

Y/N shrugged. “It was okay.”

George raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

She stared at him before sighing. “Nope. It as a disaster.”

He snorted, feeling a little weight lift off his shoulders. “That bad, huh?”

She sighed dramatically, leaning her head back. George felt his eyes drawn to the exposed skin of her neck, wanting nothing more than to press his lips to it.

“…. was a dick move to make, honestly. Don’t you think?”

George blinked, looking towards her expectant face. “Uh, yes. Yes it was.”

“Why so distracted, Freddie? What’s on your mind?”

George shuffled his feet. Her belief of him being Fred seemed to give him the confidence he needed.

“What do you think about George, Y/N?”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “George? Um, I don’t know. He’s nice, I guess.”

George felt his lips turn down. “You guess?”

She shrugged. “I mean, I don’t have a whole lot to work with, do I? He’s barely said three words to me.”

“Oh. Yes. You see, he’s uh….shy.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, and George panicked. Did he say something wrong? Was his cover blown?

Fuck.

Y/N shrugged again. “Well, I think he’s cute.”

George’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh?”

She nodded, sighing. “I wish he was the one who’d taken me out on a date instead of that prick.”

George swallowed hard to get rid of the lump in his throat, He couldn’t believe it. Y/N liked him. He didn’t know what to say.

“You know what I’d do if he were here right now?”

George blinked. Where was this going?

“Uh….what?”

Y/N looked at him, stare intense. “I’d kiss him.”

George nearly choked on his own spit. “You’d  _what_?”

She nodded, leaning forward on the counter. Her eyes traced over his features with a look that made his cheeks heat up.

“You know what else I’d do?”

George felt himself lean forward as well. “What?”

She looked at him top to bottom, making his mouth go dry. Her eyes held a hunger that set his whole body on fire.

Suddenly, she moved back. Walking around the counter, she began moving through the bookshelves. “That’s only for him to know. Why would I tell you,  _Fred_?”

_She knows._

George knew that she knew. It was in her eyes when she turned around to shoot him a look. She had been bullshitting him all this time.

“Fucking hell.” He muttered, walking after her. He grabbed her hips, turning her around to face him and pushing her into a shelf, looking into her eyes. She was smirking wide, hands coming up to rest on the back of his neck.

“You’re unbelievable.” He shook his head, feeling his own smile etching onto his face.

She giggled slightly, making his breath hitch. “I know. Now shut up and kiss me,  _Fred_.”

George didn’t hesitate to press his lips to hers, inhaling at the heavenly feeling of her soft ones, hands travelling to the small of her back. He pressed himself closer to her, groaning as he felt the tug on his hair, fingers running through it sent chills down his spine. Her whimper made him groan again, pressing his hips against hers to get some relief. She pulled away, looking at him, eyes blown and lips swollen. George nearly moaned at the sight.

“What was it that you wanted to do with George?” He whispered, hands sliding under her shirt to dig into her bare skin. She arched her back into his touch.

“Why don’t I show him instead of telling him?”

George felt himself smile. “I like the sound of that.”


	17. Pink Azalea (g.w)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is this handsome stranger who keeps coming to your shop? And why does he always buy flowers that symbolize death?

Humming to yourself, you moved your fingers lightly and carefully over the assortment of flowers, the colours different yet coordinated in a beautiful way that made them pleasing to the eye. You added one more stem of myrtle carefully towards the back, smiling at how a simple twinge of green brought the whole thing together. Satisfied, you tied a shimmering silver ribbon to the base. Picking up the finished product, you carried it down one of the two small aisles, placing it next to the fresh piles of beautifully decorated bouquets.

A ding from the bell on the glass door startled you, making you look up with surprise and a thrill of excitement.  _Your first customer._

Using quick but silent steps, you moved to the main counter, patting down your hair and shirt. Taking a deep breath, you pulled a smile on your face.

It was a young man, looking in his early 20s, hair as bright as the loveliest orange tulips. As he walked towards you, your heartbeat sped up. This man was  _beautiful._

There was something in his eyes, warm and brown, that reminded you of the sweet smelling earth of your mother’s home where you grew your flowers, something in his flushed face, resembling the most subtle and modest pink Dahlias. It took your breath away.

It was only when he stepped up right across from you, merely two feet away, that his peculiarities became clearer.

Something was wrong.

It was all over his face. The dark, heavy bags under his eyes, the disheveled state of his hair, and his red rimmed lids. He had been crying.

Your throat dried as your eyebrows furrowed. Despite not knowing anything about this intriguing stranger, you wanted to wrap him into your arms, ask him of his troubles and comfort him. He looked so tired, exhausted to the point that it confused you why he was here. You wanted to help him so badly, it was freaking you out.

Clearing your throat when you realized you’d been staring too long for it to be polite, you allowed an easy smile to stretch on your face. “Good morning, sir. How may I help you?”

He smiled, though it only looked painful and slightly overdone. Your heart squeezed at the sight but you didn’t budge.

“Good morning. I saw you setting up a few days ago. I wanted to come by and say hi. And, well, also ask for something but that’s a topic for later. So… hi.”

You couldn’t help the giddy grin spreading on your face.

“Hi.”

He smiled. It was easier this time, though only slightly. He shuffled his feet.

“I was… I wanted flowers actually. But I don’t know what kind to get. They all have meanings, right? The flowers?”

You nodded, excited to share your knowledge. “Yes, they do! That’s what makes them so beautiful, they are so much more than just their superficial beauty.” You walked around the counter towards the aisle, pointing to the simple white bouquet at the very start. “Daisies, for example. They signify pure love and innocence, which is quite understandable considering their plain but beautiful appearance. There are some, however, that can give multiple meanings.” You brushed a soft finger over some bright yellow flowers. “Daffodils when given in multiple numbers show joy and happiness. But a lone daffodil symbolizes misfortune.” You blinked, looking back at the tall stranger.

“I’m- so sorry… I was rambling. That was very unprofessional.” You could feel the red hot of your face, burning your cheeks and neck.

The man shook his head, a small, amused smile on his lips. “Don’t be. It’s very interesting. I can understand why you’re so passionate about it.”

You smiled, feeling your heart flutter. “Thank you…”

“George.” The ginger supplied. “George Weasley.”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You replied. “What…” You felt your embarrassment again. “What kind of flowers would you like?”

George shook his head. “I think I’d like to know more about them before I get them. Do you think you could recommend something? A book, maybe?”

You nodded vigorously. “Oh yes! Here.” You bustled over to the counter, hands shaking slightly due to your nerves. You pulled out a small booklet from the bottom drawer and handed it to George.

“This is a basic guide to most flowers and their comprehensive meanings.” George looked interestingly at the cover.

“This is perfect. How much?” He reached into his pockets. You shook your head.

“No, no, it’s not for sale! Keep it.”

George raised an eyebrow. “I can’t just take this.”

You waved a hand. “You can give it back when you’re done, if that makes you feel better.”

George smiled and pocketed the small book. “Thank you so much.”

You smiled back, feeling your heart flutter. “It’s no big deal.”

George moved to the door, looking at you. “I’ll be back.”

“You’re most welcome to, at any time.” You replied, feeling your cheeks flush again. There was a ding and then he was gone, leaving you thinking about your brief and strange encounter.

* * *

True to his word, George returned two days later. He held the book in his hand, and if it were possible, he looked even more exhausted than before. You didn’t understand why, he seemed so bright, but it felt like there was something holding him down.

“I know which ones to get.” His tone was slightly lighter, more focused. He opened to book, flipping the pages. He pointed at a picture. “These. _Anemone_.”

You raised an eyebrow. Anemone? What a strange choice. But you didn’t question it, rather, you led George to the shelves along the wall, picking up a small assortment of Anemones paired with Ivy.

George smiled at the beautiful delicate purple bouquet, running his hand over the petals.

“It’s perfect.” He whispered, as if to himself. “How much?”

He left soon after paying. And you didn’t even feel excited about your fourteenth sale (you were keeping count, it was an exciting thing). You were just confused.

Anemones had two meanings. They either meant  _anticipation_ for something beautiful, and they also symbolized a fading sense of hope. Your heart lurched at the thought of George buying the flowers for the second reason. But suddenly, his weary appearance made much more sense.

 _You’re being paranoid Y/N. He probably didn’t have that meaning in mind_. But you knew deep down what the truth was. You shook your head.  _Why do you care, anyway? Who is he to you?_

Your subconscious, however, couldn’t stop you thinking about George for the rest of the day.

George came at the same time the next day, another flower name on the tip of his tongue.

“I’d like some white chrysanthemums.” He said, smiling at you. But that did nothing to appease your worry.

White chrysanthemums were almost infamously known for symbolizing death, grief and mourning.

Your heart lurched at the thought, but it didn’t surprise you. The Battle of Hogwarts was only about two months old. It was a big possibility that George had lost someone, as had many people in Britain. Being from America and having moved only a month ago, you had only heard about the battle, about the extensive loss of life. You felt sympathy wash over you as you quickly arranged a bouquet of beautiful white chrysanthemums for George.

You were right about why he was buying flowers.

George’s visits became part of a routine from then on, but it was never a happy event. Everyday, he would buy a different type of flower, all relating to loss and grief, all pertaining to the death of a loved one.

Lilies, symbolizing peace for a departed soul. Gladiolis and carnations, both showing remembrance. Camellias, meaning longing. It was all so clear, and you could see that George didn’t realize he was unconsciously revealing his heart to you. You respected his privacy on the matter, and you never asked about it. You just provided him what he wanted, putting extra effort and care into what you made for him. He appreciated it dearly, paid extra and generously, despite your insistence on giving them to him for free. It was a small system you both had going on.

Eventually, George began to visit without the book, and more than once a day. He would talk to you about the bouquets you made, and it amused you how much he had grown to love the beauty of nature’s most wonderful creation. You cherished these moments dearly, it almost gave you a glimpse of what George would be like if it weren’t for the immense grief settled on his shoulders.

“Did you know that different colours of Carnations have different meanings?” He said, leaning against the counter as he watched you wrap the flowers.

“Do they?” You mused, a smile playing on your lips. Of course you knew that, but watching him tell you as if it were new information was too adorable to not go along with. George nodded as he looked at you work.

“Red carnation symbolizes love, pride and admiration; a pink carnation symbolizes the love of a mother; a purple carnation symbolizes capriciousness; a yellow carnation symbolizes disdain, rejection or disappointment; while a white carnation symbolizes innocence and pure love. A striped carnation conveys refusal.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Blimey, George. Did you memorize that book?”

George flushed as red as his hair. “It’s a nice concept…”

You patted his arm, laughing slightly. “I know, I didn’t mean it as an attack.” You started adding the final greens.

“Did you know that there are at least 20 different types of greens and filler flowers commonly used in bouquets? And that apart from the flowers, they all have meanings as well?”

George nodded, smiling. “Yes, it was in chapter 34.”

You laughed, picking up the bouquet and handing it to him. He smiled at it, before wandering down the aisles to look for a place to put it. It was a simple and unsaid harmony between you two. You didn’t know how it happened, but you loved it. You loved him.

Yes, you loved George Weasley. Somehow, over the last two months, George had become an important part of your life. From his brilliantly keen interest in flowers, to his worrying selection of them, to his wonderful words and sweet smile, George Weasley had captured your heart. You considered him a close friend, and you were sure he did the same. But not once did he mention why he bought the flowers that he did buy.

You had hinted more than once at it, but he would shut down before you could directly ask him, and you’d let the topic drop. You wouldn’t ever pressure him, it was his story to tell. But you were worried for him, and you didn’t know how to tell him that.

Until you did.

It was a cold Friday evening, and you were ready to close up. George hadn’t shown up, and you were just starting to worry why when the bell rang, along with the telltale shuffling footsteps that could belong to only him.

“Hey…” Your words died in your throat upon one look at him. His eyes were sunken beyond what was usual for him, eyes red and face blotches with tears. With a gasp, you moved closer to him, unthinkingly wrapping your arms around him.

He didn’t hesitate to hug back, holding you so tightly you almost couldn’t breathe. But you didn’t budge. You hugged back just as hard, running a hand through his hair as his shoulders shook.

“It was my brother.” His voice was muffled, strangled. “My twin. He died in the Battle of Hogwarts.”

Your chest tightened at the confession, tears brimming your own eyes.

“Oh George…” Impulsively, you placed kisses on his temple, his hair, hugging him even closer despite there already being no space between you two.

“He left.” George continued, face still buried in your shoulder. “He left, and he took me along with him. I'm… not me anymore. I’m not me without him. I can’t even-” He choked on a sob. “I can’t even look into a mirror. All I see is him looking back at me. It haunts me.”

You squeezed George’s shoulders, making him stop speaking and continue crying into your shoulder. You held him, knowing it was the only thing you could do; be there for him.

It was an immeasurably long time later that you pulled away, softly letting your fingers skim over George’s cheeks, wiping the tears. You didn’t think, _just like every other action you had done tonight_ , and you placed kisses on his cheeks. George stared at you with a strange intensity in his eyes, penetrating outward through his pain. You intertwined your fingers with his hand, pulling him with you through the aisles of flowers, letting their sweet scent wash over both of you.

As you moved through them, you allowed your free hand to pull out flowers of different kinds, handing them to George.

Blue irises,  _faith and hope_ ; Red roses,  _rebirth and new beginnings_ ; Tulips, self  _forgiveness_ ; Forget-me-nots,  _loving memories_ ; Protea,  _courage and strength of character._

You reached the end of the aisle, turning to look at George. He held all the flowers in his hand tightly, a look of strange gratitude on his face, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening.

Hesitating, you let go of his hand which you were holding, placing a single branch of pink Azalea in his hand.

_I’m in love with you._

George stared at the lone flower, turning it over in his hand, an unreadable look on his face. Then, as if in slow motion, the rest of the flowers in his other hand fell, and it reached up to cup your cheek. George leaned forward, placing his lips on yours.

You didn’t think as you wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him closer. His arms encircled you, pulling your body flush against his. His lips moved over yours, longingly, desperately, tongue peeking out to caress your bottom lip. You kissed him back just as eagerly, yearning for his touch even though it was all over you, everywhere. You put every emotion into that kiss, wanting George to know what he meant to you, what you wanted to mean to him.

When you broke apart, your breaths were heavy, lips brushing against each other’s. He reached up, placing the single pink Azalea behind your ear. You smiled at him, and he smiled back, relaxed and easy, not forced. You could still see the pain hidden under his eyes, the longing for his brother, the missing part that had died with him. It was something that would take a long time to heal, if it did heal at all. But you were willing to be there every step of the way, to help him learn to live with it, to make it a little better to survive. To not just exist, but live as well.

There were no words. There were never any words needed with him. You had an entire shop worth of flowers to tell him exactly how you felt.


End file.
